


Flirting With Disaster

by LadyKenz347



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Bodyguard, Coworkers - Freeform, Divorce, F/M, Fluff, Minister Hermione, Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 51,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/pseuds/LadyKenz347
Summary: Hermione Granger has worked her entire life to ascend to the coveted position of the Minister's Chair. So why is it that now she has it, everything else is falling apart?She's about to finalize her divorce, her two children are far from home and her life's work is on the brink of collapse.Just when everything begins to feel irreparable, Hermione finds hope and healing in the arms of her bodyguard and the man she never expected to fall for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frumpologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/gifts).

“Minister?” 

Hermione peered over the  _ seventeen _ inches of parchment that had been submitted from the Undersecretary and narrowed her eyes as she spotted Harry’s messy black hair and emerald gaze staring back through the crack in her chamber doors. 

“I told you not to call me that,” she deadpanned, settling into her high back chair and unfurling her parchment a little further. “Hermione will do, or Goddess Granger if you’re feeling particularly up to kissing my arse.” 

“Well, I was thinking I’d be a bit more professional since I’m bringing by your new security detail.” 

_ Shite.  _ Releasing the bottom of the parchment, she let it curl in on itself and grimaced at her friend at the door. 

“Well, then I suppose Minister will do.” She stood, walking around her desk to greet her old friend. The door swung open, and Hermione choked out a breath at the six-foot tall man looming in front of her. It took her too long too recognize his handsome features, and before she could think much of it, she blurted, “ _ Teddy _ ?” 

Merlin, he looked different than the last time she’d seen him. When was that? A couple years maybe, longer than it should have been. But things had been hard all around since taking the Minister’s chair; it left little time for socializing. 

He was certainly thicker than she remembered him. Whatever Andromeda had been feeding him had gone straight to his shoulders and not at all to his trim waist. 

“Minister Granger.” Teddy nodded, his chin parallel to the floor and his jaw clenched. 

“Teddy here has completed his advanced training and done a preliminary twelve months on duty.” Harry slapped a proud hand on Teddy’s shoulder, earning a small sideways smile before the young man’s features steeled into his stoic facade. “His practical and written exams would give even our old Minister a run for her galleons, but moreso, he’s also one hell of a young man.” 

The pride Harry had for Teddy was plain on his face, and Hermione even felt a little sentimental as she watched the two of them together. He certainly didn’t have to get as involved as he did after the war, but as in all things, Harry had risen to the occasion. 

“I wouldn’t trust your safety with anyone else,” Harry beamed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“Well,” Hermione said brightly, clapping her hands together, “I’m sure the rest of the team will be glad to know they’re just second choice! We’re glad to have you Teddy.” 

Teddy’s green eyes drifted towards her, and she felt a flutter burst to life in her chest when his gaze quickly scanned her body and returned to meet her stare. “Thank you, Minister Granger. Whatever you need, I’ll be here.” 

There was something in the flash behind his mossy-coloured eyes—or maybe the quirk to his full lips—that Hermione could have sworn this kid was getting a bit cheeky with her. Nodding once she turned to return to her desk, her heart thundered for reasons she was going to blatantly ignore. 

“I’ll get him set up with Jacobs for a few days; he’ll officially be on duty starting next week,” Harry said, again clapping Teddy on the shoulder and jerking his chin for the door. 

She’d known Teddy Lupin practically since his birth, though decidedly less so in the last decade, what with him being off at school and Hermione busying herself with becoming London’s youngest Minister for Magic. And still that didn’t stop her attention from being drawn to his well-fitting trousers and the defined curve of his bum. 

A fervid blush spread to the tips of her ears and shaking her head, she stared blankly at the neat scrawl on the parchment from the Undersecretary. 

“Just another security detail,” she mumbled to herself, straightening her spine and returning to work. 

She checked the clock on the wall; still a few hours before it was time to call it a night, but her fingers twitched towards the button on her desk. “Gwen, would you Floo Ron? Let him know I’ll be here late and staying at the London flat again.” 

“You got it, boss! Anything else you want me to say?”

Hermione’s eyes glazed over as she thought of  _ everything _ she wanted Gwen to tell Ron—of everything  _ Hermione _ should tell Ron. 

“No, Gwen. That’s all.”

  
  


**xXx**

  
  


“Sweet Circe, Hermione. Who in the bloody hell is that?” Katie’s jaw had unhinged, and she leaned crudely over Hermione’s mahogany desk, eyeing the sinful backside of one Teddy Lupin. 

“ _ Katie Bell!” _ The admonishment came out like a hiss, and with a snap of her fingers, her office door closed. “That is Harry’s godson, Ted—”

“ _ Little Teddy Lupin! _ Merlin’s sack, I could climb that boy like a tree.” Catching her lip between her teeth, Katie let out a perverse little noise, and Hermione couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “How old is he?”

“Too young for you, Kate. He’s my new security detail, and I don’t want you being how you are.” Katie Bell had grown to become one of Hermione’s closest friends over the years. She worked in the Ministry and had quickly ascended to the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Their work paths rarely crossed, but she was also usually here obscenely late too and so they’d often pick at wilting salads together and sneak a night cap in the Minister’s Chambers long after the office had emptied. 

“ _ Being how I am, _ ” Katie mocked, snorting derisively and turning so her bum was resting on the edge of the desk. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “You know exactly what I mean. I swear you think it’s some sort of game to make these poor kids blush.”

“It  _ is _ a game.” Katie laughed brightly, poking Hermione in the ribs. “Five points for a smile, ten for a blush. Twenty if I can get that man in my bed before the end of the month—”

“ _ KATIE _ !” Plugging her ears, Hermione rounded her desk and ignored the loud guffaws slipping from her friend’s lips. 

  
  


**xXx**

  
  
  


“Jacobs?” 

_ Nothing. _

Her face screwed up as she waited, eyes not moving from her calendar as her finger hovered over the small intercom button on her desk. With an exasperated sigh, she pressed the button again. “Jacobs? I need you.” 

_ More nothing. _

Groaning, Hermione stood, tugging on the hem of her pencil skirt to return it to her knees after sitting with her leg curled under her. She stomped across her chambers, heels discarded under her desk as she reached for the door. 

Just as she was about to push it open, it was yanked away from her and she lost her balance. Tumbling over the threshold with a muttered expletive, strong hands found her waist, catching her before she collided with the floor. 

“ _ Oof!  _ Sorry, Minister.” Hermione blinked several times, trying to make sense of how she was wrapped in Teddy’s arms and why her own fingers were curled around the swell of his bicep. His gaze landed on hers, his eyes flashing from green to a vibrant blue then settling on a familiar blend of hazel. His chestnut hair fell over his eyes, and she realized for the first time what shade it was. 

“Your hair,” she breathed, ignoring just how bloody good it felt to have strong hands around her rib cage. “It’s brown.” His lips pulled up into a lopsided little smirk, and her heart did that flutter thing as he lifted her back to her feet. “And you’re tall.” 

Her lids fluttered closed as she realized what a bloody fool she sounded like, listing off obvious attributes of his like a blubbering teenage girl. “I just mean, you’re different. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hair brown. You always had it those wild colors when you were a kid.” 

“I can’t take much credit for the height, I’m afraid, just a growth spurt, but the hair—” His smirk widened, and he shook his head; starting at the roots and spreading to the tips, a vibrant teal blue replaced the brown, and when he looked up at her again, his eyes were back to the mossy green from the first day he’d walked into her office. “Brown is a little more respectable, I’ve come to find.”

Metamorphmagi had rare and special magic that always made Hermione grin, even as an adult it seemed. Her heart pained remembering her dear friend Tonks, and if Hermione looked hard enough she could still see her shining through in the sparkle to Teddy’s eyes and the bow of his lips. 

“Well, don’t do so on my account, Teddy.” She stepped back, suddenly aware of how close she was still standing to him. “If my hair can look like this—” she pointed to her wild, unruly mane “—then you may have blue hair.” 

Teddy chuckled and ran a hand through his loose fringe; slowly it faded back to the same shade of brown it’d been before. “Was there something you needed? I heard you call for Jacobs, but he had to leave early. His wife went into labor a few weeks early. I thought Gwen told you; I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, shite. He’s meant to accompany me on my business trip to the States in a few weeks. Do you remember how long he’s taking for paternity?”

“I think he said six weeks? He’ll be back next week to coordinate the schedule but he asked if I was available for your trip before rushing out.” 

“Oh!” With a start, Hermione’s spine straightened, and she blinked hard a few times. “Oh, that’s— well, that’s wonderful. That is, if you can come— I mean  _ make it. _ ” Her blush deepened, her lips pursing in as she bit her cheek. 

Thank Merlin, Morgana, and all four founders, but he laughed; he actually laughed. “I’m available. The only person available, actually. Perks of being a young, single guy with no family.”

Hermione’s jaw fell open audibly with a soft  _ pop _ . The depths of her sadness that he was orphaned must have been plain on her face as her fingertips reached towards him, ready to offer her condolences. 

“Oh, shite—no.” He laughed again; Hermoine found she rather liked it. “I just meant I don’t have a wife and kids. I’m not so morbid I’d bring up my parents right now… except that now I am, so—” Teddy’s eyes widened in the uncomfortable silence that stretched on between them, and he shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back and forth on his toes. 

With a strangled noise, Hermione covered her face and took a few deep breaths. Why on earth was she acting like this? “I’m sorry; I think I’m just a little distracted by work, so I’m acting all flighty. Would you get Gwen and come into my office? We need to go over the details for the trip, and she should have all that information.”

“Of course, Minister.” 

She pulled a face, managing a few steps before pausing and turning back over her shoulder. “ _ Hermione _ .”

“What?”

“Hermione is fine. At least when we’re in this capacity; you don’t need to be so formal with me. I find I’m still not used to the title even after two years.”

Teddy bit down on his lip, peeking up through his thick eyelashes at her and nodded. “Hermione, then.”

**xXx**

  
  
  


Dragging the feather of her quill through her fingers, Hermione was completely lost in thought as she stared out her gaping door. She normally preferred it closed but lately, she’d quite enjoyed it open. 

When it was open, she could stare at Teddy Lupin’s backside and no one was the wiser about her lecherous ways. Merlin, the man could fill out a suit. He was all broad shoulders and trim, lithe, little waist. If she had to, she would bet her Gringotts account that he didn’t spend his weekend sucking down beers at minor league Quidditch games and eating crisps to his heart’s content like her husband…well, soon-to-be ex-husband. 

It’s not that Hermione still boasted the same body she’d had at twenty-one or anything, but the years had been kind. Her hips were a bit wider and the flesh of her thighs a bit thicker than it’d been in her youth, and sure there were silvery stretch marks scarring her tummy from where she’d grown two huge Weasley babies. But she wasn’t all that bad if she said so herself. 

But she wasn’t Gwen. Gwen with her long raven hair and perfectly clear dark skin. No, Gwen Hutchins had legs that stretched on for days and was long and lean everywhere. 

Hermione was no fool, mind you. Ever since Teddy had become a regular in the office, the top buttons of Gwen’s blouses had became more of an option and less of a necessity. She narrowed her eyes as Gwen swirled in her chair, laughing needlessly at something hilarious Teddy had said, or so she imagined. 

Regardless, Gwen was far too old for Teddy. She was what now? Twenty-seven? 

_ Tsk. _ Hermione clucked her tongue and lifted her quill to tickle under her chin as Teddy leaned across her secretary’s desk, his jacket lifting so she could see the way the material kissed the curve of his bum.  _ Good Godric. _

“Look sharp, kids,” Katie bellowed from around the corner; Gwen, Teddy, and even Hermione jumped in their seats. As Hermione’s friend rounded the corner, Katie froze, eyes narrowing. 

_ Bollocks. _ She’d gone and gotten herself caught _ . _ A hot blush stained Hermione’s cheeks as she began scrawling nonsense on a piece of parchment, her brow pinching in intense concentration. 

“Oh, stop fussing.” Hermione peeked up at her dear friend, finding a wicked smile on Katie’s lips as she kicked the door shut and crossed the office floor. “You’re allowed to look, Minister.”

“I’m not  _ looking  _ at anything,” Hermione replied, letting her parchment furl in on itself as she sat back, folding her hands neatly over each other. “What can I do for you?”

Katie snorted and dropped into the chair across from Hermione, kicking her feet up on the edge of the desk. “When do you leave for your big trip?” 

“Wednesday. I’ll be gone a week, and then when I get back—” Hermoine’s breath hitched, tears welling in her eyes as she remembered what was coming next. 

“Did you guys set the date?”

Hermione slumped in her chair, feeling the heat of the folder tucked in her desk drawer. Divorce. That’s what it’d come to. All these years, two beautiful children, a flat in London, and a small estate in the country and it was time to divide everything down the middle. 

“We meet with the mediators in two weeks; I wish things would be amenable between us, but you know how Ron gets. Merlin, when this gets out—” A fresh round of tears slipped over her face as she buried her face in her palms. 

Katie was at her side in moments, rubbing soothing circles on her back and hushing her as if she were a child. “When it gets out, people will understand. Trim the fat, no pun intended.” 

Choking out a surprising laugh, Hermione batted at her friend and peered up at through wet lashes. “You’re awful.” 

“You love me. Drinks tonight?” 

Hermione nodded, never more grateful for her friendship with the witch. “Yeah, that’ll be nice.” 

Once she was alone again, she slid her desk drawer open. With trembling fingers, she lifted the envelope from where it’d sat for the last three weeks. She’d been unable to look. But seeing as the tears were already flowing freely, no time like the present. 

Slipping the heavy parchment from it’s confines, her vision blurred as she read over the list of things he wanted to take from their marriage. His broom collection and the season tickets to the Harpies they’d held onto far after Ginny had retired. He wanted to sell the country house, which she knew, but seeing it listed tasted bitter on her tongue. 

That was the house her children had learned to walk in. It’s where Rosey had broken her arm trying to catch a rogue snitch and Hugo had once exploded all the cabinets with a fit of accidental magic. It wasn’t just a house; it was their home. 

The words blended together as she finished the list.  _ Let him have it. _

But it was at the end, under the section titled  **Custody Agreements, ** that crushed the air from her lungs. Joint custody, it read.  _ Part time parenting.  _ That was… well that was reasonable, wasn’t it? The children were half his, after all.

Except that she hadn’t carried, birthed, and  _ raised _ two children only to have them part time. She already lost nine months out of the year now that they were both in school; if Ron got his way, it’d be half their summers and holidays too. 

The weight of it all pressed in on her, and an ugly sob tore from her throat as she shoved the parchments back in her desk drawer. She kicked her heels off and stood, pacing her office simply for something to do as her rage overtook her. 

“Goddamnit!” she growled under her breath, picking up a vase and shattering it on the far wall. The resounding crash sobered her, and she froze, staring at the pretty broken pieces now littering her floor. 

“Minister!” The door swung open, as it rightly should, and Hermione turned. “Merlin, is everything alright?”

Teddy was across the room in a few long strides, his hands wrapping around her shoulders as his gaze floated over her face, worry etched in hazel eyes. She could only imagine how she looked, tears striping down her cheeks, barefoot and hysterical. 

“No, Teddy. Everything is  _ not _ alright.” It was wholly unprofessional and probably morally inappropriate, but Hermione took a step into his space, covering her face with her hands before resting her forehead on his chest and losing herself in another round of tears. 

His fingers tightened on her shoulders, one hand slipping free for a moment to close the door with a wave before returning and wrapping her in a hug. 

It shouldn’t be such a big deal; she knew Teddy well enough to have him hug her if she was upset. But it felt like  _ more _ , and in a moment of confusion and heartache, she lifted her face towards his, her gaze falling on the perfect curve of his lower lip. 

Again, his hold tightened, his breathing turning slow and deliberate as his hard chest bumped into hers; she swore she could hear the smallest hitch in his breath. 

Realisation settled over her slowly, and after a few long blinks and a hard slap from reality, Hermione sucked in a quick breath and took a step away from him, frantically wiping her cheeks. 

“Merlin,” she breathed, a dry huff chasing the word. “Look at me. I don’t know what in the world has come over me; I’m terribly sorry, Teddy.” 

Padding back to her desk, she withdrew her wand and waved it at the mess she’d made and fell into her chair. She felt hollow— _ numb. _

“Did anything happen? Anything I ought to be made aware of, Minister Gr—”

“Hermione,” she corrected, her face pinching as she leaned over her desk. “And no, Teddy. It’s nothing like that.” With a long exhale and two more swipes to her cheeks, Hermione steeled herself, slipping into the role that felt most comfortable. “Again, I’m sorry about that. Will you alert my evening security that I have drinks with Katie tonight? I don’t feel I need to be escorted, but you know how Harry and Jacobs get if it’s a public place. Wouldn’t want to upset the boss, yeah?”

“I’m your evening detail.” 

“You—” Her eyes narrowed, chin canting to the side. “But you’re here now. Shift changes this evening, right?”

“Not tonight. You’re all mine.” His palms lifted, a playful smirk playing on his mouth, and he turned for the door, pausing before he pushed it open. “Hermione?” 

Her gaze lifted, still watery from her bout of crying, and she could feel her eyelids swelling already. “Hmm?”

“If you need  _ anything _ , I’m here for you. Anything at all.” There was a low timbre to his voice that struck a chord in her hollow chest, and her mouth ran dry. 

Blinking twice, she cleared her throat and sat tall in her chair. “Thank you, Teddy.” 

The door clicked shut, and with another loud groan, she slammed her forehead against her desk, drawing up and wincing as she rubbed the sore spot with the tips of her fingers. 

Leave it to Hermione Granger to choose the desolation of her marriage and upheaval of her family to flirt with disaster. 

  
  


**xXx**

  
  


“Merlin, he’s pretty,” Katie craned her neck, eyeing Teddy up and down, and Hermione could do absolutely nothing but laugh into her second glass of wine. “You should have sex with him.” 

“Katie!” 

“Fine, I should have sex with him.” Katie waggled her eyebrows obscenely and leaned back in her chair, sucking crudely on her straw as she eyed him up and down. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had decent sex. I can’t even imagine how long it’s been for you—”

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione finished the drink and beckoned for another from the bartender with a lift of her finger. “Suffice it to say it’s been a while, not that I can even really say what Ron did to me was decent sex. It was more a series of random hip thrusts and one long grunt.” 

Katie’s riotous laughter spilled through the air as she slapped her palm on her knee. “Oh, girl. That’s exactly what you need. One decent shag and you’ll never cry over that poor sod again. Well, that’s not true. You’ll probably cry because you’ll realize all the good men out there that could have been shagging you senseless for the past twenty years.” 

“You’re incorrigible; I’m not shagging anyone. If nothing else, these past few years have taught me that someone is perfectly capable of existing without sex. Sure, I bet it’s wonderful to have that in your life, but it’s not a necessity.” 

Katie lifted a wicked brow, her lips curling up in a knowing smile. “Minister, I have to disagree with you there. It’s a necessity, and you’re starved and thirsty… and the only way to quench that need is to find someone strapping and willing. And if the way your bodyguard keeps looking at you is any indication, I think you’ve already got quite the candidate.”

Hermione peeked to her left where Teddy was stationed against the wall: far enough away to allow her some semblance of privacy but close enough that he could keep a keen eye on her. Seemingly sensing her gaze, his eyes drifted to hers, and his mouth did that lopsided smirky thing that he seemed to be fond of before the cheeky little bastard tossed her a wink. 

The bartender arrived, delivering their final round and breaking Hermione from her salacious leering. Katie snickered, and Hermione ran a nervous hand through her curls. 

“I’m not shagging anyone, Kate.” 

A short, dry laugh ghosted past her friends lips, and she shook her head. “Maybe not yet.” 

xXx

  
  


_ Hiccup. _

“Sorry, Teddy—” Hermione blinked several time. “I don’t normally drink that much.” A small laugh floated through the air, and Hermione’s features flattened into a stiff annoyance as she righted herself with a palm on the wall and stared pointedly at him—well, attempted to. “Something funny?”

“Not at all, Minist—I mean  _ Hermione.  _ I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so drunk. There was that one time at Harry’s wedding, but still...maybe not quite  _ this _ gone.” 

Hermione growled, waving a hand through the air as she found the door to her flat. “Yes, well, it’s been a day.” 

She began patting down her body, looking for her wand when Teddy merely chuckled and stepped up to the door, twisting his wand by the handle until she heard the familiar click of the lock. With a quiet nod, he swung the door open; Hermione entered, ignoring the little smirk he was still wearing. 

Once inside, Hermione kicked her pumps off near the door and untucked her blouse from her trousers. It dawned on her suddenly that she had a man in her flat; she turned, a suspicious brow inching up on her forehead. 

“You’re quite cheeky, Teddy,” she said plainly, brows kitting as his grin widened and he made his way further into her flat. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. 

“Am I still on duty?” Teddy asked, pausing in front of a picture of Hermione and Ron on their tenth-anniversary trip. They’d gone to Greece; Ron had slept in the sun while Hermione visited the Parthenon and the Acropolis alone. 

Hermione gulped, chuckling wryly. “Only if I’m in danger.” 

Tension spread over Teddy’s shoulders, and he turned to look at her intently;. Either she was drunk or his eyes were shifting colors. “You’re not in danger when I’m around. I assure you that, Hermione.” 

Another thick swallow as she watched him yank his tie loose and undo the top button of his Oxford. “This is a nice place. I assume Ron’s not here?” Teddy continued his slow pacing of her flat, pausing to flip open a book on her end table and lift a picture frame off the mantle. 

“Why do you assume that?”

His eyes flashed dangerously towards her, and she felt something hot curl up deep in her belly. “Because I’m in here—and Ron doesn’t strike me as the type of husband who would enjoy his wife having another man in their flat.” He placed the picture frame back where it’d been and came to lean across the bar top, catching his bottom lip between his perfect teeth. 

Clearing her throat, Hermione turned towards him, body heavy and useless from all the wine in her system. “No need to worry about Ron; you won’t find him within one hundred kilometres of me if he can stand it.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes tightened, remembering the practical little list that Ronald had made up for her dividing their lives neatly into two. “We’re getting a divorce.” 

She was met with welcomed silence; no one knew yet. Not even Harry. It felt so strange saying it aloud. Even though it was happening, regardless if anyone knew it or not, it still felt like saying the words was breathing life into it, solidifying it. 

“Are you alright?” Teddy’s voice was quiet and cautious, missing that boisterous confidence he normally oozed. 

Hermione blinked, tearing her gaze from the marble countertop and back up to him, her lips lilting in a barely-there smile. “Most of the time. It’s been over for a long time; we just wanted both the kids in school. So now that Hugo is off, its time. It’s just a bit strange,” she mused, brows tugging together. “You share your life with someone, living side-by-side day-in and day-out; you never stop to consider that every step was taking you further apart. Not until you look up and they’re leagues away.”

A deafening silence settled between them as they met each other’s gaze, but something in it felt heavy and important. When his lips parted, ready to say something to make her feel better, she thought better of it. 

“Listen to me—” She chuckled, pressing a hand over the blush on her cheek. “Prattling on like an old ninny. At least tonight I can blame it on the wine. You g’on,” she said, jerking her chin for the door. “Go be young while you still can, it’s Friday after all; I’m sure there’s some trouble to be had somewhere. No need to spend your night listening to this old lady gab on about her failed marriage.” 

Teddy snorted, straightening his spine and coming around the counter, dangerously entering her space. She sucked in a short breath, swallowing as he towered over. “You’re not old, Hermione.” The confidence in his tone made her skin flush, and she suddenly felt far too hot. 

An awkward chuckle escaped her, and she rolled her eyes, settling her gaze on the wide expanse of his chest. “Tell that to my wrinkles; they refuse to listen when I tell them I’m not ready for them.” 

“I think you’re beautiful,” he said simply, as if it were nothing to tell her that. 

Her eyes snapped up, locking on his. The colour shifted endlessly, settling on a hazy mix of blues that showcased his wide, blown pupils. He took a dangerous step into her, and she retreated, only stopping when her bum was pressed against the counter. Both of his hands rested on either side of her, caging her in as his face dipped closer to hers. 

_ Merlin, what the fuck was she doing? _

Her lashes batted closed, the wine buzzing loudly between her ears, and she thought maybe— just once. 

“I meant what I said earlier.” Teddy’s breath ghosted over her face, sweet like peppermint, and she could feel his gaze trained intently on her parted lips. “ _ Anything you need _ .” 

An embarrassing choked noise escaped her as she realized that little Teddy Lupin had her pressed against her countertop and was implying that he would pity-fuck her if she needed. And  _ Merlin,  _ did she need it _ .  _

With a soft shake of her head, she pressed a palm to his chest and gently moved him away. “Thank you, Teddy. That’ll be all for tonight.” 

He dragged his teeth over the flesh of his bottom lip, a grin pulling on the corner of his mouth, and he nodded. “Goodnight,  _ Minister _ .”

The low purr of his voice nearly made her knees give out, and she gripped the edge of the counter to steady herself. “Goodnight.” 

  
  


xXx

**Authors Note**

**Welp. You made it to the end of Chapter 1 without running, so that must be a somewhat good sign? No? I’m a little (read: A LOT) terrified to share this new piece but I hope you like it! The entire bit was inspired by an aesthetic challenge for Frumpologist’s birthday and I hope I do this rare pair justice! **

**Endless thanks to my Alpha’s for encouraging me and talking me through many would-be panic attacks, InDreams and MCal and of course to my lovely Beta, who makes everything so pretty and never stops believing in me. I love you all! Mwah!**

**Updates on Mondays. **


	2. Chapter 2

“Gwen?  _ Gwen!” _ Hermione called over her shoulder, annoyance thick in her tone as her assistant lagged behind, batting her lashes at Teddy. She was met with a peal of flirtatious laughter. Stopping abruptly, Hermione turned on her heel with a narrowed expression. “Gwendolyn?”

The laughter faded away, Gwen turning her bright smile on Hermione. “Yeah, boss?” 

A curt smile curled Hermione’s lips upwards. “Everyone is fully aware that Teddy here is quite pretty. Yes?” 

Teddy shifted, grimacing slightly while Gwen gasped, her doe-eyes innocent as if she hadn’t just been shamelessly flirting with the man. 

“Good, we’re in agreement. Now.” Hermoine paused, inhaling sharply through her nose. “This trip is incredibly important. Not just to me— _ oh no _ . It’s important to the  _ all _ wizarding-kind. So, please keep your canoodling to after-hours. Okay?”

Clearing her throat, Gwen shifted and pursed her lips. “Of course, Minister. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Brilliant.” Hermione shot a pointed look at Teddy, whose lips were twitching in amusement. “Now, let’s go. Portkey leaves in ten minutes.” 

The sharp point of Hermione’s pumps clicked against the cool tile as Gwen picked up her pace and flipped open her folio, reading off the agenda upon arriving in New York.

For years, even before ascending to the Minister’s Chair, Hermione had been an advocate for the International Magical Coalition. The war that had ravaged Britain was too quickly glossed over by the rest of Europe and the world as a whole. 

But she hadn’t forgotten. She vividly remembered every day of it; nightmares still terrorized her dreams, the slightest hunger pain brought her back to eating tiny winter berries knowing full well they’d make her sick. For all those months, they’d fought mostly alone: children and untrained citizens, rising up with magical creatures of all species. 

Since the fall of Voldemort, the magical community had been at peace. But, Hermione refused to wait until they were already too far deep in another war to do something about it.

Establishing the IMC had been the headline of her campaign; as a war heroine, Hermione refused to settle for the reign and terror of Lord Voldemort fading into history books soon to be forgotten for another generation. 

But, as with all things, MACUSA was being a real pain in her arse. Their Magical President was amenable enough; however, getting in front of her was the problem. A Congressman, Mister Watson, was a perpetual thorn in her side, and it had finally been established that she needed to come and see to it in person that MACUSA was officially part of the IMC. 

Needless to say, Hermione was not leaving without the President’s written agreement. She had several meetings throughout the week, strategy and planning sessions with various members of MACUSA, all ending with the Presidential Ball at the end of the week. 

As such, Hermione had zero tolerance for handsome young men flirting with her or her assistant. There was going to be zero tolerance for—

“Hermione!” 

Freezing mid-step, Hermione felt her blood run cold. 

_ Ron. _ What the bloody hell was he doing here? Her jaw clenched—six minutes to Portkey. 

Turning sharply, she fixed a bright smile on her face, painstakingly aware of each person walking past. “Ron? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Hey, Teddy,” Ron nodded over Hermione’s shoulder. “Wren.” 

Hermione’s eyes clenched shut, and she brought her fingers up to massage the bridge of her nose. “It’s  _ Gwen; _ she’s been my assistant for seven years, Ronald. What do you need?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going out of town for the week? I found out from Harry; seems like something I should probably know.” Dragging a hand through his overgrown hair, Hermione almost saw a glimpse of the man she’d fallen in love with.  _ Almost _ .

“I have to go; the Portkey is about to activate. We’ll talk next week—” Hermoine turned to resume her route to the Portkey Liaison Office when Ron’s fingers darted out, wrapping around her elbow and stopping her. 

Teddy took a quick step forward, his hand flinching for his wand holster, and Ron snorted. “She’s my wife, Ted. Stand down.” 

Wrenching her arm back into her own possession, Hermoine fussed with her jacket and inhaled sharply through her nose. “Please don’t instruct my staff, Ron. My Portkey leaves any minute; I really need to go.” She made it all of three steps before he called out to her again. 

“ _ It’s Rosie _ ! Gryffindor’s Chaser got hurt; she won’t be playing in the game on Friday, so Rosie’s in. She wants to know if we can make it.” Ron’s brows were high, inching towards his hairline as he awaited his answer. 

_ Bugger it all.  _ Disappointment lanced through her, and she felt familiar pressure behind her sinuses. “I can’t, Ron,” she breathed. “This trip—”

“Yeah,” Ron scoffed, his lip curling in that same disappointed frown he always wore for her these days. “It’s important, right? They’re always more important than your family.” 

An audible groan rumbled from her lips, her eyes rolling in her skull. “Merlin, Ron. It’s my job! It’s what pays for your ale hobby, in case you forget.” 

“Right, because that’s all I did. Who was raising our bloody kids while you made your climb to the top—” 

Her mouth fell open, a quick, well-rehearsed retort on her lips when Teddy cleared his throat behind her. “Two minutes to Portkey, Minister.” 

Merlin, she was exhausted. Fighting the same fight for over a decade had made her  _ exhausted. _ Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a long breath. “I’ve got to go. If you talk to Rose, tell her I’ll Floo her this weekend. Goodbye, Ron.” 

Gwen stood at the door, ushering Hermione through as she ignored the grumbled expletives at her back. 

xXx

“I’ll get us checked in, Minister.” Gwen gave a quiet, almost apologetic smile and left for the front desk of the posh hotel in New York. Poor girl, she’d seen more arguments than Hermione could frankly remembering having. 

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hermione focused on her breath. Truthfully, she was partly humiliated that her employees had seen the little outburst, but more than that, she was devastated to be missing Rosie’s first game. The girl had been born to play Quidditch; there wasn’t a time that she wasn’t chasing a Snitch or practicing her aim with a Quaffle. 

“Are you okay, Hermione?” 

_ No. _ “Of course, Teddy. I’m sorry about that; he normally doesn’t try that at the Ministry. Must have been my lucky day.” 

Gwen returned, and they made their way to the top floor of the hotel. The room was lavish, not that she was used to anything else these days. Long gone were the days of the dusty couch at Grimmauld or sharing a bed with Ginny in the Burrow. The rich tapestries and king-sized beds of penthouse suites were her new normal... except that it also meant the other side of the bed was empty. 

This room in particular was quite lovely, all tall ceilings and a wide wall of windows that showcased Manhattan in all of its chaotic glory. There was a sitting area with modern furniture in shapes of various sizes, an impressive wet bar, and in the adjacent room was a heavenly bed with white netting hanging from its four posters. 

“Right,” Gwen said, stepping forward with a firm set to her lips. “You’ve got about two hours, Minister. Congressman Watson’s assistant is heading by to escort us to his office for our initial meeting, and then there’s a business dinner scheduled this evening at a restaurant called The Hawthorne.” 

Moving through the room, Hermione set down her briefcase and kicked off her heels, mostly ignoring what her assistant had already told her half an hour prior. “Gwen, see if you can contact the International Portkey Office and get me back to Hogwarts in time for the game on Saturday, yeah?”

There was a beat of tense silence as Gwen flipped open her folio, staring at the agenda for the week. “That’s the night of the Presidential Ball.” 

“Well, I won’t stay the entire game. Just see if I can get there and back—”

Nervousness rippled from Gwen’s shoulders as she pulled a face, her eyes never leaving the parchment in hand. “Games start at ten o’clock, right?” She looked briefly to Teddy who nodded. “That’s five in the morning here; we’d have to get the Portkey for four o’clock at the latest and get you back here in time for your nine o’clock brunch at the President’s Mansion—”

“Damnit, Gwen! Just figure it out! Or don’t, but don’t sit here and chew on my schedule for me. Move the shite around  _ or _ tell me you can’t and that I’m going to miss my daughter’s first Quidditch game.” Her hand sliced through the air, tears welling in her eyes as they always did when she was furious. Gwen flinched, and Hermione pressed her eyelids shut, quelling the thundering of her heart. “I’m sorry, Gwen. That was inappropriate.” 

Hermoine took the few steps to the nearest armchair and fell into it in an exhausted heap. “Will you please see what we can do about rearranging the schedule? I know it’s impossible, but I can’t forgive myself if we don’t try. Get a Floo set up with the Headmistress as soon as possible so I can explain. And  _ definitely _ one for Saturday morning so I can wish her good luck.” 

Gwen nodded once and turned sharply on her heel, exiting the room and leaving Hermione to curl in on herself like a cat. Merlin, it was only eight-thirty in London, and she was bloody exhausted. 

A soft cough caused her eyes to snap open, and she realized suddenly she wasn’t as alone as she thought she was. Dipping her stocking clad toes back to the carpet, she tugged on her pencil skirt and fixed a weak smile on her lips. 

“Oh, Teddy. You’ve gotten quite the show this morning—” 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Hermione?” Teddy’s eyes were tight and cautious, and she couldn’t help but feel ashamed that she’d turned into such a beast that everyone was nervous to be in the sheer vicinity of her. 

“No, quite alright. Get some rest, yeah? It’ll be a long day. Jacobs usually keeps his room adjacent, if not attached, in case of emergency. The man is always ready for a disaster that never comes.” 

Hermoine leaned back, pulling her feet up under her yet again and letting her eyes fall closed. 

“If you need anything, I’ll be next door. And Hermione?” Begrudgingly, she rolled her head towards the door and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

She chuckled dryly. “Merlin, what on earth for?”

“You don’t deserve to have a man talk to you like that—that’s no man at all. You deserve to be told—” His breath caught, eyes crinkling the way his father’s used to. “Well, you don’t deserve that. And if it was my place, I would never have allowed it.” 

Unfamiliar and thick emotion stuck to the sides of her throat; Merlin, it felt good to hear that. Even if it shouldn’t. “And I’m sorry about Rosie’s game,” he continued. “I hope we get something figured out.” 

“It’s the irony of power, Teddy. You finally get it, and you can’t do anything.” Her lips curled in a wry smile before she rested back in her chair for the final time, ignoring that he lingered at the door for an extra moment before it finally clicked shut. 

xXx

“Congressman Watson!” Hermione beamed, extending her hand to the gentleman still seated at his desk. Stupid dolt didn’t even know when to rise for the blasted Minister for Magic. “So wonderful to finally meet you.” 

“And you, Mrs Granger.” Watson smiled in return, but it didn’t touch his eyes, and Hermione waited, hands clasped until he  _ finally _ beckoned to her to sit. 

She tucked her skirt underneath her, crossing one ankle over the other like a proper British woman before fixing him with a smile she reserved only for those she truly detested. “It’s actually Minister Granger; they gave me a shiny new title when I took the Minister’s Chair.” 

The man across from her smiled wickedly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands over his flat stomach. He was older, she assumed, based on the pure white of his hair, but he looked barely over forty. There was something she’d come to understand about men who looked as handsome as Drew Watson; they were dangerous, and it twisted like a nervous eel in belly when he arched a perfect brow in her direction. 

“Forgive me,  _ Minister—” _ His voice oozed saccharine, and Hermione knew from exactly this moment that she despised Congressman Watson. “I forget how very British you all can be. You may call me Drew or Watson, whichever you prefer.” His palms lifted, an annoying display of his nonchalance in the face of English manners. Fine. If he wanted a Brit, he’d get one. 

“So, Drew—” His eyes narrowed, and behind her she swore she heard Teddy cough, doing an absolutely wretched job of hiding his laughter. “For whatever the reason, I’m here discussing foreign policy with you— _ a congressman _ .” Her voice fell flat and disappointed at his lowly title, and she delighted in the way his upper lip curled fractionally. “I have to admit that I’ve never been denied a meeting with the leader of any other delegation. But you seem to be the roadblock,  _ Drew. _ ” 

Watson chuckled to himself, steepling his fingers in front of him while remaining annoyingly smug in his chair. “President Rhodes is happy to greet you this weekend at the Presidential Ball and listen to your proposal for your global army—”

“International Magical Coalition—”

“As you know, since your civil unrest—”

“ _ That war resulted in the loss of hundreds of magical humans and creatures alike. Not to mention—” _

_ “ _ Miss Granger,” Watson purred, and that was it. Something snapped inside her, and she was on her feet, leveling the fool with her most dangerous glare. 

“For the final time, I am the sitting British Minister for Magic. I demand the respect that title deserves. You can blame this on being British or me being a bitch, but I expect that your manners will have returned by the next time I see you.” 

She didn’t wait for his silly snide retort; she stormed from his office, muttering under her breath about just how very much she loathed Americans. 

xXx

Dinner was canceled— _ thank, Merlin. _ Another moment with that pompous jackarse after the day she’d had and she was going to lose her fucking mind. 

The rooms had been warded, though they had Muggle tele and a bathrobe that felt like cuddling with a lamb. She was perfectly content to enjoy her jet lag with a fat bowl of spaghetti carbonara and  _ most _ of a bottle of Chardonnay. 

“I don’t feel right about this.” Teddy’s lips formed a stern pout, and she chuckled at his concern. 

“No one expects you to work twenty-four-seven, Teddy. Seriously, you should go on! Get some dinner and enjoy New York. I’m sure Gwen will enjoy the company.” She planted what she hoped was an encouraging smile on her face and jerked her chin towards the door. 

Teddy made a face, shoving his fingers in his denims and letting his hands rest there before turning for the door. The man looked good in a suit, there was absolutely no denying it, but Merlin, what he could do to a pair of denims and a jumper. 

“Your hair!” she called out, her lips quirking in amusement. “No need to be respectable off duty, yeah?” 

When he turned, he wore the brightest smile she could remember seeing on him, perfect and dazzling as he chewed on his lip. “What colour would the Minister prefer?”

Tucking her chin into her chest, Hermione laughed and felt a soft blush rise to her cheeks. Oh, it felt good to laugh. She hadn’t done it all that often recently, except at Katie’s wild antics or the kids running amok. Peeking up through her lashes, she felt almost sinful as she took a deliberate breath and stared back at him, her voice dropping. “I liked the teal.”

His eyes darkened, flashing to a dark midnight before returning to their rightful colour, and so slowly it almost pained her, his hair began shifting hues from the root. Something about him changed too; his shoulders pushed back as he stared at her, and something flashed in his gaze. Rubbing at the thick muscle stretching from his neck to his shoulder as he peered back at her. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? I could stay—”

The heat of the moment cooled, and she smiled kindly back at him. “No, no. Go and enjoy; I’ll be safe and sound here.” 

With a begrudging look goodbye, Teddy left, greeting Gwen as the door swung closed, and Hermione couldn’t pretend to ignore the jealous twist in her belly. It wasn’t that she wanted to be young again—well, maybe she did. But more so, she just wanted to be noticed. 

For so long, she’d been Mother and then Minister; she hadn’t even had time to be a wife—let alone a woman. No wonder her marriage had fallen apart. 

Disappearing into her en suite, she uncharacteristically discarded her clothes in a pile on the floor and changed into her silk nightie, then donned the thickest, softest robe she’d ever remembered wearing. As she passed the wet bar, she snagged the white wine she’d put on ice and the remote control.

As she settled into a corner of the uncomfortably stiff couch, despair washed over her. This is what her life was now. The greatest adventures and loves of her life were behind her; what was left?

xXx

_ Thud. Thud. CRASH.  _

Hermione’s eyes snapped open, and she blinked in the dim light, eyes settling on the blinding white infomercial that had taken place of the romantic comedy she must have dozed off to. 

_ THUD. _

Old instincts kicked in, and she was on her feet, robe sliding away from her body as she gripped her wand and made her way to the door. Merlin, this is what she got for dismissing her bloody staff. Eyeing the adjacent room’s door, where Teddy may or may not be, she realised that she could be wasting precious time. This was a private floor after all. 

Wrenching the door open and pushing her magic into the old wand that barely saw enough use these days, her eyes settled on a scene she was too smart to not have predicted. 

Teddy fiddled with Gwen’s room keys as she clung to him like a fucking barnacle. Hermione dropped her wand just as Teddy’s gaze found hers. It was short lived; Gwen’s slender fingers skimmed through his teal hair, and she latched her lips onto his neck. 

“ _ Hermio—”  _

The door slammed shut before she could hear the final syllable, and in her own private shame, she pressed her forehead against the back of the thick door. The feelings cresting and crashing inside her had no hold; they were unwarranted and certainly unwanted. 

She could feel the blossoming of a fresh headache, wrought by the wine or the circumstances, she couldn’t be sure. Massaging her temples, she padded through to her room and searched for her migraine vials only to realise that they were probably with fucking  _ Gwen.  _

“Fuck it all!” With a soft growl, Hermione dropped her robe to the carpet and made her way to the bed. 

Sinking into the plush mattress nearly cured her of all her ailments—nearly. Her eyes caught on a hazy, dull blue vial with a note from the hotel to enjoy a night of Dreamless Sleep. Stupid fucking puns. 

Hermoine wasn’t one for sleep potions; they nearly always brought on awful nightmares of times better left forgotten. But the headache was thrumming, and her mind was reeling, and truly she just wanted to fucking sleep. 

Flicking the stopper with her thumb, Hermione tipped the vial to her lips, and she fell onto her half a dozen pillows without another thought. 

xXx

“Minister! Goddamnit— _ HERMIONE!”  _

Before she could make sense of anything, Hermione’s fingers were twisting in thin cotton, sweat beading down her temples as she kicked at the duvet and sheets wrapped around her bare legs. 

Desperate, wild pants rocked her body as she focused on the dark purple hair and terrified gaze of Teddy Lupin. Her grip deepened, pulling him infinitesimally closer as she took stock of the situation. One of his massive hands was cradling her cheek, his fingers brushing the nape of her neck while his thumb traced a lazy track over her cheek; the other was on her shoulder as he loomed over her bedside in naught but low slung pants and a vest. But it was his eyes that truly startled her. 

“Teddy?”

“Hermione—” Her name ghosted from his lips, and it did nothing to calm the thundering of her heart or her haggard breaths. “You were screaming.” 

One blink. Two. 

“ _ Oh.”  _ Of course. “I’m—” she cleared her throat, “I’m sorry. I took a sleep potion—sometimes they give me nightmares.” She offered him a weak smile and noticed that her fingers were still tangled in his vest and his hands were still curling around her. 

The silk of her nightie kissed her hip, and with a start, she realised that not only was she mostly naked, but she’d also probably torn him from Gwen’s bed. Pinching her features in a horrified grimace, she pushed up on the bed until she was seated, ignoring the way his fingertips brushed her collar bone as they fell away from her. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your night.” A blush spread over her chest and crept up her neck. “I’ll be just fine. I’m sor—”

“I didn’t fuck her,” he said it so plainly that a harsh huff of air pushed violently past her lips. 

“ _ Excuse me?”  _

His brows pinched together, his features pulling an amused smile. “I didn’t. I  _ wouldn’t.  _ I know you probably think you saw something, but she was piss drunk; I was just trying to get her back in her room. I tossed her a Sober-Up and was in my bed a few minutes later.” 

Her blush deepened— _ warmed _ . Too hot. She was suddenly too aware of her lack of a bra and the silk negligee still sliding up her thigh, not to mention his lack of clothing and the fact that it was the dead of the night. Reaching for the edge of her sheets she cleared her throat and tried to throw on her very best Minister tone. 

“It’s not my business what you do after hours, Teddy. You and Gwen are grown adults and—” 

His hair changed, the purple deepening into a rich crimson as one hand came to rest behind her and the other found the crook of her knee, hiking it up until her hip was exposed. With an almost comically loud  _ thud _ , her head crashed against the headboard, and she sucked in a desperate gulp of air. 

_ Dangerous.  _ Handsome men were always dangerous. And Merlin, this man in particular was carved from fucking stone. From the sharp planes of his cheeks and the cut to his jaw, the swell and tension of his exposed biceps, Hermione had to push that little voice out that told her to reach out and rub her palms over every hard inch of him.  _ Every _ inch. 

“Teddy—” She meant it as an admonishment, but it sounded like a prayer— _ an absolution.  _

The hand that cradled the back of her knee had slipped, his fingers curving around the thick of her thigh as his face dropped closer to hers. The overwhelming scent of him made her eyes flutter, and her breaths turned shallow and deliberate as the tips of his fingers brushed the underside of her leg. 

“Ask me to stay,” he whispered, his breath pushing curls from her temples as she tried in vain to reign in her wild breaths. 

“That’s not approp—” The word died a sad, tragic death as his index finger brushed along the seam of her knickers, and her fingers curled in the sheet beneath her. “Teddy, we can’t. You—” Her eyes clenched shut until bursts of white light exploded behind her lids.  _ Merlin, fuck her moral high ground now more than ever. “ _ You should go, Teddy.” 

His nose brushed her cheek, and for the most deliciously sinful moment, she thought he’d press further and she could give in without a drop of guilt; but this boy was raised by his grandmother and Harry-bleeding-Potter.

His hand slid from her thigh, and he righted himself, his hair fading from crimson to chestnut brown as he stood at her bedside. “Do you need anything else, Minister?”

The way he spoke sent fervid vibrations through her body. _ Fuck _ , she just wanted to be touched again—touched like  _ that. _ Like she mattered and was beautiful and like someone wanted to be with her out of lust and not obligation. 

“No, I’m fine.” She gulped, her gaze traveling to the tenting of the pants as his palm came down to grip his thick erection just once before offering her a smug smirk and turning for the door. 

Once it’d clicked shut, she cast exactly two silencing charms and then buried her face in her pillow and screamed until the throbbing between her legs had dulled to nothing more than a gentle ache. 

xXx

**Thanks for tuning in for another week of Teddy! I am so geeked over this story and the initial response made my whole life! So thank you for liking, reviewing, following or any combination of the aforementioned. You guys make this whole writing thing so much more fun when I can share it with you.**

**Alphas: MCal and InDreams **

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**You three are the most wonderful. Thank you!**

**Updates on Monday!**


	3. Chapter 3

The week had been absolute shite. 

For every step she’d made in coordinating with various members of Congress, Watson had been there to thwart her advances. The man, for whatever reason, was obstinately against the IMC, and his good looks and charm seemed to sway a room far too easily. 

Her meeting to present her case to the President was in the morning, right before the brunch with Congress where—hopefully—President Rhodes would be announcing the start of a wonderful new future for the Magical governments of the world. 

But in the final meeting of the week, Watson had poked holes in their carefully constructed plans, leaving her deflated and frankly furious. 

She was able to ignore Teddy for the most part, who acted unphased by the events in her bedroom the first night in New York, and with even more effort, she ignored Gwen’s shameless flirting. To his credit, Teddy did little in the way of paying her much attention; past polite responses and holding the door, his attention stayed fervently on the Minister. 

Barefoot and still in her work clothes, Hermione sat in front of her Floo cradling a tumbler of firewhisky as she awaited the ticking hands of the clock. The Saturday morning Floo Hermione had requested was rejected; not by the Headmistress, oh no. 

Rose explained in no uncertain terms that it would be a distraction the morning of ‘the biggest day of her life’. So the Minister for Magic was begrudgingly allotted a time slot between Rose’s charms class and supper on Friday night. Brilliant. 

The clock on the mantel finally hit the proper time, and Hermione frantically stuck her head through, waiting until Rosie’s face appeared before her and she let out a sigh of relief. 

“Hi, love! How are you doing?” 

“Hey, mum. Doing alright, Hugo says hi.” 

_ Oh. _ Guess that meant she wouldn’t be talking to him. “How were your courses? I know you’re excited for the game, but please make sure you’ve got all your studies done for the day—”

“ _ Mum!” _

Hermione startled, jerking her head back. “What? What’d I do now?”

“You’re doing it again! Can’t you just be normal and call me and wish me luck? My homework is fine; you’ve seen my marks.” Rosie rolled her lovely eyes in the way that Hermione knew by heart; after all, like mother like daughter. 

“I’m sorry, dear. You know I just want to make sure you’ve got a good balance between school and Quidditch.” She softened her tone, but Rose still bristled. This wasn’t the first time she’d given the speech, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. “Please don’t make me out to be the bad guy, Rose. I’m trying here—”

Rose huffed and she snapped. “No, you’re not. If you were trying, you’d be here. You wouldn’t be calling me from New York and hounding me about school! At least Dad’s coming—”

“Rose Weasley, you watch your tone this minute! I’m still your mother, and if you think for one minute—”

“That what, Mum? Are you going to ground me? Pull me from school?”  _ Checkmate. _

Hermione sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth, her fingers tightening on the whisky that she’d promised herself she wouldn’t drink during the call. “I hate that I’m not there, Rosie. I’ve had this trip planned for months; it’s not something easy to just—”

“It’s time for supper,” Rosie interrupted, staring at her lap with a tight frown. 

“Oh. Alright, then.” She was met with a few beats of silence as she stared at her daughter. She was so much lovelier than Hermione or Ron ever were, delicate cheek bones and lovely, fiery hair that didn’t expand when she was stressed. “I love you, Rose. And I’m going to be there next time and you’ll be brilliant. Maybe I’ll come to Hogsmeade on your next weekend trip! We can stock you up on sweets and quills, yes?” 

Thick, heavy tears welled in the corners of her eyes, and Hermione implored them not to spill over. Strong for her; stronger for her kids. 

“Sure, Mum. I gotta go. Love you, too.” 

“Okay. Bye, lo—” The scene went blank, and Hermione pulled her head from the grate, staring at the portal to her failure. 

Tossing back the last of the firewhisky, Hermione rose to her feet and stomped towards the front door. Ripping it open, she found Teddy standing at attention. 

“Everything alright, Minister?” 

“No.” Her palm pinned the door against the wall, and he turned to her with a quizzical brow. “Do you want a drink?”

A moment stretched on during which Teddy stood stoically still, managing only a handful of blinks before he turned to her, his lips quirking. “Is it a trick?”

Hermione snorted and canted her head to the side. “Of course not. I’m drinking, and I’m sick of drinking alone. Do you want to drink?” 

He turned, taking a step towards her, and she felt her heart quicken with his close proximity as his gaze roamed over her features. “I’d love a drink. Just don’t tell my boss.” 

Laughter slipped past her lips, and she stepped aside to allow him in. Studying him as he moved through her room, she took long, purposeful breaths. This was dangerous. 

Turning, she saw that he was facing her yet again, yanking on the knot of his tie and sliding it from his collar with such practiced ease that Hermione felt parched. Maybe it was time for a little danger. 

xXx

The firewhisky was nearly empty. Hermione had changed into sleep pants and a loose camisole, a cardigan draped over her shoulders and her wild curls pulled up on her head. The first half an hour that they sucked down firewhisky was fraught with tension and long, awkward pauses where she could feel the heat of his stare on her cheeks. 

But then the liquor had done its job and loosened her tongue, and before long they were laughing.  _ Really _ laughing. Laughing like she hadn’t done with another person, outside of Katie, for years. 

Quickly, she realized that he liked her stories, or at least he was very good at pretending to. He asked lots of questions and leaned in towards her as she spoke; he never seemed distracted by knick knacks in the room or his own anecdotes. It seemed he was pleased to sit and just listen to her all night. 

When it was her turn to listen, she found herself wholly entranced by the man who sat across from her. Firstly, for being such a thick, intimidating cut of a man, though at his core he was a tender-hearted and fiercely loyal Hufflepuff. He’d been made headboy his seventh year and managed incredible scores on his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. 

But when she’d pressed him about his personal life, he’d gotten surprisingly still. He’d dated Victoire when they were kids, that much she knew. Merlin, the amount of times the two of them had been caught snogging had even made the bloody  _ Prophet _ . The news of their breakup must have been a couple years back now. 

“You’re working too hard, Teddy. You don't have anytime for any type of life! There’ll be enough time for work later on. Trust me,” she said, a dark, hollow laugh chasing her words, “climbing ladders isn’t everything.”

There was a moment of loaded silence as Hermione chewed on her cheek before continuing. “Just promise me when you meet the right girl and have your kids you’ll take a step back.” 

Teddy snorted, draining his drink. “I’m not having kids.” 

“Oh, you’re just saying that. You’re still young—”

“Nope.” His lips popped softly on the second syllable. “Ever since  _ being _ a kid, I knew I didn’t want kids. Blame it on being a kid without parents, but the family life just hasn’t appealed to me.”

“You might yet change your mind. You’ve got a lot of life ahead of you.” It seemed impossible that at the tender age of twenty-one he could make such a decision, but she’d married around the same age, hadn’t she? Had children just a few years later, too. Hell, she had her entire life planned out by fourteen—sure there’d been a few hiccups, but she’d gotten there eventually… mostly. 

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, Minister.” Teddy chucked under his breath. 

“So, I take it you don’t have a girlfriend? If you do, she must be rather irate with how late I keep you around most nights.” Hermione regretted the words as soon as they slipped out. She hadn’t really meant to say them, but once she had, she found she needed to know the answer. 

“No, no girlfriends.” Teddy’s tongue darted out, dragging over perfectly straight teeth, and too slowly, his gaze lifted to hers. “I don’t normally ask other women to let me stay in their beds if I’m dating someone.” 

A hot blush spread up her chest and settled in the apples of her cheeks as she downed the rest of her drink. “Well,” she managed after the burning of whisky had dulled in her throat. “You shouldn’t have asked me either. I’m old enough to be your mother!”

Teddy snorted, leaning forward in his chair. “That’s because you still think of  _ me  _ as a child, and in case you missed it—” His smirk widened, and that familiar pitter-patter returned in her ribcage. “I’m very much not a kid anymore.” 

With a thick gulp, Hermione shifted in her seat and eyed her empty glass intently. She’d gone and crossed the line into inappropriate territory leagues back now—perhaps when she invited the boy into her room for nefarious drinks and salacious talk of what he’d offered her the other night. 

“Well, you’ll have to forgive me, Teddy. But I still remember you in nappies and riding around on a training broom. I’m an old lady now and whatever you think you might want with me, trust me when I tell you that you don’t.” She turned on her hip to face him, her cardigan slipping over her shoulder. There was no doubt in her mind that she should move it. She didn’t. 

But then his gaze caught on her bare shoulder, and his hair shifted to same shade of crimson from a few nights prior. “Am I speaking to the Minister for Magic or Hermione?” 

The low timbre of his voice caused her heart to quicken, and her gaze fell to study the carpet. “Why does that matter? They’re both me.” 

Leaning forward, Teddy set his glass down on the table between them, the muscles of his forearms tensing in the most delicious way. Rising to his feet, he came to occupy the small space next to her on the sofa, his hand resting on the back as he stared at her with inscrutable dark eyes. 

“Because if I’m talking to the Minister, I’d say that I have no idea what you’re talking about and that I’m just happy to be another member on your team.” 

Heat rippled off his body, his hip brushing against hers as he dipped infinitesimally closer. 

“Teddy—” Her voice was low, barely a hum as his fingers slid around the curve of her jaw, his thumb dragging across the bow of her lip. One hand came up to rest on his forearm, curling her flingers around the taut exposed muscle as she gently shook her head. 

“And if I was talking to Hermione...” He paused to tilt her face up towards him, her gaze finally rising to match his, finding it dark and wanting, “I’d say that you’re fucking gorgeous, and I’ve done nothing but fantasize about burying my face between your legs since I was old enough to know I could.” 

Against her own volition, her back arched off the cushions, his words sending deep vibrations between her legs. The tip of his thumb moved from the flesh of her lip to dip between her lips, and Hermione felt powerless as her tongue brushed against his digit, her eyes fluttering closed as she lightly bit down on it. 

“I’d tell you just that I’ve thought about hiking those smart little skirts up and fucking you until the entire floor knows what we’re doing. I’d tell you about how I can’t stop thinking about you. About how fucking brilliant and beautiful and maddeningly sexy I find you and how badly I want to show you in a million different ways.” Dragging his thumb from her mouth, Hermione’s eyes shot open, staring at him as she pleaded with her breath to even and reason to return. “But I want you to be sure, Hermione. You tell me when you want me to stay, and I’ll stay.” 

She hesitated; how could she not? For a brief moment, her fingers tightened around his arm and then fell to her lap as she shifted away from him. 

There was no missing the flicker of disappointment in his eyes. With a soft smile, he stood and crossed the room, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on. “Will there be anything else, Minister?”

The incessant ache between her legs begged her to just bloody say it.  _ Stay. _ But Teddy didn’t deserve all the mess she had going on these days; she was an old woman with more problems than solutions, and he had his whole life ahead of him. 

“Goodnight, Teddy. Thanks for keeping me company.” 

He was gone without another word, disappearing to his adjoined room. She growled an expletive under her breath as she reached for a firewhisky she really didn’t need to be having. 

**A/N: Alpha love to InDreams and MCal. Beta love to Ravenslight. You guys are the best. Thank you! **


	4. Chapter 4

“Esteemed guests, members of MACUSA, it is my greatest honor to welcome you to the President’s mansion this fine morning. This week we’ve had the privilege to host the Bristish Minister for Magic, Hermione Granger, in our capitol. Through her tireless work with her team as well as a collaborative effort with our own staff, we have put together a wonderful plan to bring the magical nations of this world together.” 

Hermione tried to contain the smile breaking over her lips, truly she did. Gloating didn’t set will with her, but her excitement was practically bubbling from under her skin, and as President Rhodes gestured for Hermione to take the stage, she did so with all the humility of she could muster—which wasn’t much. 

Taking in the room, her eyes landed on Congressman Watson near the front, his eyes intent on only her. The furious fire dancing in his eyes stole her breath, and she floundered as she turned back to the crowd waiting in rapture. 

“Together, Minister Granger and I are ecstatic to announce a new era in Magical Governing bodies. The International Magical Coalition will usher in a precedence for safety for all the generations to come and the United States is proud to stand next to Britain in this wonderful endeavor.” 

President Rhodes extended her hand, a bright smile gleaming on her face as dozens of flashes went off and commemorated this monumental moment in history.

She’d done it. 

Smiling for reporters and shaking hands with various dignitaries worked in distracting her for a while; it was almost easy to forget that while she was here celebrating her victory, her daughter was thousands of miles away, hopefully celebrating her own. Almost. 

xXx

“ _ Gwen! _ ” Hermione slid her wand through the air, guiding her zipper up magically as she slipped into her heels. The blasted dress left little in the way of forgiveness; it hugged every inch of her torso in a fitted black satin, falling loosely around the tops of her arms, exposing her clavicle and shoulders. The material flared delicately at her hips, revealing a slit up to her mid-thigh that might be considered inappropriate for a woman of her age, but it gave her a little touch of confidence that she simply couldn’t deny herself. Her curls were tucked neatly at the base of her neck, and she reached down to grab the ruby earrings she’d bought for herself when she won her campaign. 

Behind her, the door creaked open, and as she was slipping the first of her earrings on she turned, expecting to find Gwen. 

She didn’t. 

Teddy was there, his hair a vibrant blue, and he sported a slim tux tailored perfectly for him. His bow tie was a touch crooked, and she couldn’t help but chuckle as his eyes dragged down her body. A heated flush crawled up her neck, and she clucked her tongue and waved him off in a vain effort not to sink into his affections. 

“You’re not Gwen.” Her brow arched as she returned to study herself in the floor length mirror, fixing the second earring into her place and taking another deep breath. In the reflection, she watched as Teddy crossed the room towards her, coming so closely behind her that she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against the skin exposed on her back. 

“No, I’m not.” His breath fanned over her neck and her eyes fluttered shut. “Did you need something, Minister?” Without waiting for an answer he reached down and lifted the glittering diamond necklace from its velvet enclosure. “May I?”

Nothing could quiet the racket her heart was making in her ribcage as she nodded, desperate for his fingers to brush along her skin. He was careful at first as he maneuvered the necklace into place and worked on its clasp; she swayed as he worked, her eyes closing softly. A single finger slid slowly down her spine, stopping when it met the fabric and her eyes shot open. 

“Merlin, you’ve got to stop that, Teddy—” she admonished weakly, turning so she was facing him and realising quickly what a mistake that was. She gulped as his eyes slowly raked over her cleavage and hips then back to her face. With a little downward turn of her mouth she reached up to straighten his tie, and his hands moved quickly, settling on the delicate curve of her waist. 

“Do you really mean that?” he breathed, his gaze catching on her parted lips, and she took the smallest step towards him. 

The door burst open with a loud, “Sorry, boss!” 

Hermoine jumped back, fussing with her dress as she walked past Teddy to find Gwen hunched over her folio, wholly distracted. Her brain stuttered and sputtered, desperate for the reason she’d asked for her in the first place.“What time is the Portkey tomorrow?” 

“Set for ten, ma’am. We’ll be home at three o’clock London-time.” 

“Okay—any word from Rose? Or—” She paused to clear her throat. “Ron?” 

Gwen’s cheeks darkened as her gaze fell to the ground. “No word from them, Minister. But I did check with my friend, and Gryffindor lost to Slytherin today.” 

Inhaling sharply, Hermione clenched her jaw and summoned her clutch to her side, stowing her wand inside. She marched into the front room and through the Floo without waiting for either of her staff. 

xXx

The President’s Ball was certainly a grand affair. From what Hermione understood, they were held only twice a year, and no expense was spared. Magical citizens flooded the ballroom, dripping in expensive fabrics and elegant jewelry and daintily sipping champagne from long exaggerated flutes. 

Overhead, a magicked ceiling revealed a spectacular smattering of constellations in a swirl of midnight, navy and purple. The columns surrounding the room were cloaked in chiffon that sparkled in the same colors as the ceiling and little glowing orbs floated about the room, reminding her of the fairies from her childhood. 

“ _ Minister _ !” 

She’d barely made it through the door when Watson was at her side, a hand on her lower back as he ushered her in. Hermione bristled at the contact but made no move to extricate herself from the touch as she lifted a champagne flute from a passing tray and took two long sips. 

“Congressman” she said flatly, crossing one arm across her middle as he pulled her off to the side of the room. 

With a dark chuckle he shook his head, white locks falling over his forehead as he pushed closer to her. “You’re a real ballbuster, Minister; I’ll give you that. Congratulations on a job well done while you were here. You were an admirable adversary.” 

Hermione balked at him as he nicked the flute from her fingers and drained it in a final gulp, his hand coming up to rest on the column behind her, caging her in. Fury welled up inside her, and she stood a few inches taller; she would not shrink to accommodate this prick’s ego. 

“I have to admit, Drew, I’m not quite sure your issue with the IMC. It seems like it hardly affects you in the slightest, yet you so vehemently protest its existence.” 

The congressman pulled a displeased face, canting his head from side to side as he reached in his robes and pulled free a flask. She eyed him like a snake as he tipped it to his lips and offered it to her. When she declined with a wave of her hand, he took another long draw and stowed it safely away. 

“Government funded coalitions like this are not something that my constituents tend to care about. It raises their taxes and causes them all sorts of headaches that I have to listen to.” 

Hermione arched a brow as Teddy and Gwen came into view a few paces away, Teddy’s gaze intent on her. “Odd that your constituents would take such a problem with it. The amount of funds going to organize it will be nominal—” 

She was silenced as he stepped into her, reeking of firewhisky and stale cigars. “It’s much more lucrative, for someone such as myself, to have these kind of situations controlled by the private sector, Miss Granger.” 

“ _ Minister, _ ” Hermione corrected in a low voice. “Is that what this is? Your private funds are going to be taking a hit by the government backing the IMC? Merlin, you’re more awful than I thought you were. And trust me, I thought you were plenty awful already.” 

Taking a quick step around him, she made to march off but his hands closed around her elbow, dragging her back towards him. From her periphery she could see Teddy reach for his holster but she stayed him with a lift of her fingers. 

“I’ll thank you to take your hands off me before my security steps in, Congressman.” Watson’s eyes darted towards Teddy, his hair a deep purple and his eyes flashing onyx as he stared at the altercation. With a disbelieving snort, Watson stepped back, raising his hands in defense. 

“I was only going to say you look stunning tonight,  _ Minister. _ ” 

Lips curling in a soft growl, Hermione smoothed the fabric of her dress and leveled him with her most menacing stare. “I’m sorry for your pocketbook, Congressman. But I will not let your personal gains affect the safety of the magical community. Have a pleasant evening.” 

Without another look towards the drunken lecher she left behind, Hermione stomped towards the front of the room, eager to forget the idiot altogether.

xXx

Life was never quite that simple. 

Watson was placed at the table next to her for dinner, and the longer the night wore on, the more positively pissed drunk the man got. Truly, she tried her absolute best to ignore him but his loud, inappropriate anecdotes and the way his table mates laughed uproariously at his every word was hard to tune out. 

Dinner was followed by drinks, and the tables were magically cleared for a magnificent dance floor. Hermione filled the evening by chatting with different members of MACUSA and their spouses, sidestepping conversations about her own family by flailing over theirs. 

“Minister,” Teddy’s voice was low in her ear and she startled. “You wanted to know when it was ten o’clock.” 

_ Bless him. _ She bid adieu to the Cockerhams and hunted the room for the President so she could say her final goodbyes, get back to the hotel and into a bath before sleeping off this champagne buzz. She couldn’t believe it, but she was bloody happy to be heading back to dreary London. 

America was dangerous, what with handsome boys flirting and annoying men thinking they could push her about. Maneuvering around a lovely couple lightly snogging against a pillar, Hermione yelped as a hand wound around her waist and pulled her swiftly onto the dance floor. 

She found herself nose to nose with none other than Drew Watson, and her good mood dissipated, her features flattening in annoyance. “Merlin, what in the hell do I have to do to get rid of you, Mister Watson?” 

He turned them in a slow circle, his hand slipping from her waist to her lower back. A brilliant flash came from a camera to her left and she hissed as it blinded her. 

“Don’t be like that,  _ Hermiiione _ ,” Watson purred. For the first time since she’d arrived she looked directly at him. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot, heavy from too much alcohol, and the hand that was at her lower back slid back to her waist and up her ribs. With a false, tight smile she attempted to step back, but his other hand crushed painfully over hers, and she let out a soft whimper. 

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed just as his thumb brushed the curve of her breast. 

With a little more force, she fought his hold, ignoring another flash from the camera. His face dipped down until his lips were brushing her neck, and she stilled, preparing herself to hex this fool. “You’re a beautiful woman. Maybe we can’t find a way to work out this aggression between us.” His hand retraced its earlier route, sliding over the curve of her bum and grabbing a handful of her arse. 

_ Another flash. _

Shoving her hands into his chest to push him away, they both stilled under the humming of a wand light, its point shoved in the hollow under Watson’s jaw and it’s hilt gripped tightly in Teddy’s palm.

After a painstakingly long time, Watson bared his teeth and dropped his hands uselessly to his waist as half a dozen men in matching suits encircled the three of them, wands pointed at Teddy. 

“Teddy,” she breathed, her voice shaking as she noticed the roomful of stares trained on them. 

“Listen to your boss kid. See all those other wands?” Watson jerked his chin to the other men. “They all work for me. They’ll have you in binds in no time.” 

“That’s fine, Congressman.” Teddy smirked, stepping into him and stabbing his wand deeper into his throat. “You just better make sure they can cast faster than me.” The tip of his wand glowed brighter and gave off a quiet sizzle that set Watson on edge. Before another word was spoken, he lifted his hands to his own men, and they dropped their wands. 

Teddy was frozen, his wand unmoving even as a string of flashes commemorated this horrifying event for the American tabloids. 

“Teddy, it’s time to leave. Good evening, Mister Watson.” 

Unable to watch the stand off between Teddy and Watson another moment, Hermione turned and crossed the ballroom. Her skin was alive, thrumming with adrenaline and champagne as the crowd parted for her, and she stomped into a closed adjacent room, leaving Gwen securely outside, handling the crowd of reporters on her heels. 

Her dress was too bloody tight, and her fingers splayed across her belly as she tried to quiet her breaths.  _ How dare he put his hands on her like that?  _ Merlin, did the man have no sense of propriety? It was clear from even before their first in-person interaction that the man was a complete jackarse, but this was just— _ indecent. _

The door opened and closed quickly behind her. Before she could even fully turn, Teddy was there, his hands cradling her jaw as he studied her face. 

“Are you okay?” She nodded, eyes fluttering closed as his fingers curled around the nape of her neck. “I could have killed that fucking prick. I can’t believe he’d think he could—” 

Blame it on the situation or his proximity or the way the comforting masculine smell of him rippled off his robes, but her hands curled around his lapels as she shook her head, a final attempt to shut down the warring emotions inside her. 

He’d been there. He’d protected her and cared for her, and he was still bloody  _ here _ . He wanted her and Merlin, she wanted to be wanted. 

“Hermione?” Peeking up through her wet lashes at him, she found round blue eyes and teal hair looking back down at her. He took a hard step into her, backing her up until her bum was resting against the desk, and she sucked in a quick breath past her lips. “Say yes.” 

“ _ Yes. _ ” The word was out of her mouth before she’d properly thought on it, and she had not a moment to take it back. His lips were crashing against hers, his hands gently tilting her face so he could slant his lips more properly against hers. 

The soft brush of his tongue against her lips made her keen, and she opened for him, letting him taste her and steal her breath as his hands travelled south from her face. His fingers brushed lovingly along the curve of her breast but didn’t pause there long enough to give them the attention she craved. 

Everything was heated and rushed as his hands moved along the snug fabric. Touching her arse minutes after she’d been groped should make her furious, but Merlin, it was like he was worshipping her. His lips left hers, trailing down her jaw and latching onto the juncture of her neck and shoulder, earning a quiet moan as her fingers tangled in his now crimson hair. 

With a gentle lift, Teddy had her off her feet and resting on the desk as his hands moved frantically over her, finding the crook of her knee and raising it over his hip, exposing the length of her thigh. He groaned as his hands slid up her leg, disappearing under the fabric and finding her bum, dragging her to the end of the table as his mouth found hers again. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this. Like the very reason for living was in her arms as he drank her in, thrusting his erection between her legs while she curled around him. 

“Gods, I want to taste you, Hermione.” His mouth moved to her ears as his fingers dipped in the seam of her knickers, and she wantonly parted her legs wider for him, lost in the euphoria of his touch. Just as he skimmed her silken folds, wet in a way she didn’t even realize she  _ could _ be wet anymore, a loud knock came at the door. 

With a soft growl, Teddy’s teeth nipped at her earlobe, and he moved from between her thighs, Leaving her spread and fucking  _ horny _ as he fussed with his suit jacket and stared at her. Running a hand through his red hair it settled back into a chestnut brown, and he took a long breath. 

“Minister, let’s get you back to the safety of the hotel. Immediately.” Something about the tone of his voice made her keen again, and she pushed from the desk and settled herself, running her hands on the fine satin of her dress.With a final huff of air, she steeled her face into a well-worn mask. 

“Right.” She took exactly two steps before Teddy jumped in front of her, a mischievous smirk on his face as he dropped to his knees in front of her. “Teddy! You just said—”

“I know, Minister. But quick change of plans.” He found the slit in her dress and his hands slid from her ankles and up the length of her legs in slow, sinful strides. Hooking his fingers in the hem of her knickers, Teddy began to peel them down her shapely legs. 

“Teddy!” she hissed. “What on earth?” Despite knowing it was a horrible idea, she stepped quickly from her knickers and let him shove them in his pocket as he rose to his feet. 

“Don’t you dare take that fucking dress off,” he demanded, and Merlin, she fucking liked it. His hand slid between her legs, brushing against her slick folds in the slowest of teases, causing her knees to buckle. “ _ Or the heels _ .” 

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and then retreated to the door, hand on the doorknob as he winked at her. “Ready, Minister?” 

A hot blush stained her skin, but she paid it no attention as she marched into the crowd of reporters and photographers waiting for a statement. 

“Minister Granger! What happened out there?”

“Do you have a relationship with Congressman Watson?” Hermione paused at that one, pulling a face as half a dozen recording devices were shoved in her face. 

“I have nothing but a professional relationship with Mister Watson. It seems he might have had a little too much to drink this evening; who hasn’t been there, right?” That earned a low chuckle from those surrounding her. “I do hope the news on the front pages of your papers will be of nothing but the exciting progress between MACUSA and the British Ministry of Magic and not this salacious gossip. Goodnight.” 

Hermione spared a final look at her bodyguard hovering nearby, his lips caught between his teeth as he stared back at her, and she made her way towards the Floo and the safety of her hotel. 

  
  


**A/N: Alpha love to InDreams and MCal and Beta love to Ravenslight! Thank you guys so much!**

**And thank you, lovely reader, for following along. Would love to know your thoughts! **

**If you want to hear me ramble with my dear friend, Frumpologist, about all things fandom, join us on Wine, Wands and Waffling for our new fanfiction podcast! We're on FB, Tumblr and Twitter!**

**Until next time - LK**


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNING: Just like...a ** ** _shit ton_ ** ** of lemons ahead. **

**xXx**

Gwen was lurking. 

Fussing over Hermoine’s bags and checking incessantly on her wellbeing after being fondled by the overly handsy Congressman. After several attempts to shoo her without being too blunt, Hermione finally gave up and poured herself a drink and sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard in her gown as she waited for Gwen to finish her work. 

Not that it all couldn’t be done by magic, but Hermoine had a sneaking suspicion the girl didn’t want to leave Hermione alone for fear she might implode. What was the polite way of saying she wanted to be left alone so she could get delightfully laid?

But finally, when Gwen sat on the edge of her bed with a pitying half-smile, Hermione gave up. “I really am quite alright, Gwen. I promise. I just need some sleep.” 

With a fresh new task, her assistant moved to retrieve some sleep things and Hermione jumped, gesticulating wildly. “ _ No!” _

They shared an awkward moment, both of them staring with wide, startled eyes at each other as Hermione finished her drink and set it on the end table. “Sorry, dear. I’m just so tired. I’ll find something on my own.” 

“And you’re  _ sure _ you’re okay? I can stay if you need—”

With a pitying smile, Hermione curled her legs up and waved her assistant off. “No, Gwen. Go and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Gwen left, tossing one final look over her shoulder, and as soon as the door clicked shut, Hermione summoned the firewhisky and poured herself another drink. Each passing minute stretched on, and she found her patience wearing thin. 

Perhaps he’d gone to bed. Maybe she was getting all worked up, and the bloke had drifted off while Gwen sat here and folded her clothing like a Muggle. 

Resting back on the headboard, she threw one hand over her torso and with the other took long, purposeful drinks of liquor. Suppose she should go to him? Maybe put on her least boring pair of knickers and knock on the door that separated their room. But that seemed a little desperate, didn’t it?

Then again, she’d been sprawled all over some poor sod’s desk and was currently without knickers, so perhaps desperation wasn’t something she needed to defend at this point. 

It was all bloody ridiculous. 

She should put on an oversized t-shirt, lock the doors and go to—

The soft click of the door closing made her heart leap into her throat as she took another drink, but before she could even set her tumbler down, Teddy was there. His thick frame took up most of the doorframe; he was still in his suit, but his tie had been loosened, his top button undone. 

Merlin, he was fucking beautiful. His hair was back to that shade of crimson he seemed to wear often around her, and his eyes were dark as they roved her body. 

“You took your heels off?” His voice was low and husky as he leaned against the door jam, hands shoved deep in his trousers. 

She bit back a smile as she finished the last of her drink and placed it on the end table. “Well, I had to wait a very long time.” 

In the dim light of the room, she could make out the corner of his lips quirk. “Tell me to stay.” 

She hesitated again; how could she not? But this time was different. This time she knew the answer. 

Her shoulders fell against the tufted headboard, and she bent one of her knees up, letting the silken fabric fall to the side and expose the creamy expanse of her thigh. 

“Stay, Teddy. I want you to stay.” 

Tucking his chin into his chest, he let out a long, deliberate breath, his lips quirking in a smile as he shrugged from his jacket. She desperately wanted time to slow. She wanted to commit this moment to her memory. He brought both hands up his throat, slowly pulling the knot of his tie free and tossing it on the end of the bed. 

She shifted, her sex aching as he slipped the buttons of his shirt free. His gaze never left hers, dark and intent as he tossed his shirt aside. His undershirt was so thin she could see the peaks of his nipples through its fabric, and her mouth ran dry as he lifted one arm over his head and then swiftly pulled it over his head. 

Well, there was certainly a line being crossed that she couldn’t come back from. Teddy Lupin was in her hotel room, half-naked, at an ungodly hour—and Hermione was without knickers. 

With a sinfully slow stride, he approached the bed, his movements cautious, as if he was still waiting for her to change her mind. When he was close enough to taste, she sat up, lifting her fingers to the soft smattering of hair covering his pecks, dragging it down the etched lines of his abdomen, skimming the hard cuts of his hips. 

Kicking her legs off the side of the bed, she moved for his belt, ready to free him of his confines, but his hands closed over hers, bringing her wrists together and gripping them in one hand. Her eyes snapped up to his, finding him smirking wickedly. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip, and he snapped his fingers; the tie at the end of the bed lifted and floated into his waiting palm. 

She gulped. Merlin, she’d not been with a man in at least a year and a half; was she really sure she was ready to take on this level of kinkery? Panic rose inside her, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as he worked, securing her wrists together gently and tugging on it once, earning a little whimper from her. 

“Trust me, Hermione.” His knee came up to rest beside her, and gently he leaned her back, pushing her bound wrists over her head and holding them there as he hovered over her, his lips brushing—not kissing—along the thin skin under her jaw and over her cheek. 

In a bout of frustration, she wiggled her hips and made a soft growling noise. He pulled back, an amused smile on his face. “Something wrong?” 

“I’m not the most patient of people, Teddy. Surely you’ve deduced that by now?” She deadpanned, waiting for him to get on with hit but instead, the light in his eyes danced.

“Well, that’s something you’re going to have to work on, Minister. Because this is something I’ve dreamed about for a very,  _ very _ long time, and I have no intention of rushing a single bloody minute.” At the gentle rock of his hips, she keened when his hard prick brushed against her thigh. “Don’t move your hands. Leave them here. Do you understand?” 

A flutter rose dangerously in her chest. When was the last time someone had told her what to do? When was the last time she’d liked it?

To her own surprise, she nodded, and Teddy’s grip on the fabric binding her loosened, and his lips slanted over hers, moving firmly and purposeful as he claimed her mouth. There was no actual touching of the parts of her that were begging to be touched and she brought her hands ready to begin this painfully slow process, but he growled—both hands came up to stop her as he nipped at her bottom lip. 

“ _ Tsk, tsk, tsk.  _ You stay still.” His lips pressed to her forehead and then her temple, leaving a slow trail down her throat and between her breasts as she gasped and arched off the bed, one knee rising to invite him deeper. 

His hand curled around the crook of her knee, sliding and massaging the thick of her thigh as he worked towards her aching centre. With another snap of his hips, his fingers dug into the flesh of her arse, and she whined and bucked into him. 

“Please, Teddy—” Merlin, she’d been reduced to begging, but she didn’t give a shite. She needed him. 

Rucking up the soft satin her gown, he slid down her body and off the bed until he was kneeling on the floor, and Hermione almost shot her hands down to stop him but his hard glare caught hers and he canted his chin in a challenge.  _ Right. _ The bloody no touching thing. 

Insecurity and terror coiled inside her, fighting for dominance with her voracious lust. So gently she barely registered the touch, he parted her knees, and she clenched her eyelids shut. 

A fervid blush spread over her whole body as his lips pressed to the inside of her knee, his fingers curling around the backs and yanking her until her arse was primly on the edge of the bed. 

Another kiss up her thigh, then another and another, and  _ finally _ his hot breath ghosted over sex, and she fought the urge to clamp her thighs around his head. His eyes locked on hers as he dragged a long swipe of his tongue over her seam. 

_ “Fuck—” _ she hissed, fighting against her constraints as he smirked up at her. With a quick readjustment, her knees were hitched over his shoulders and the cheeky little shite actually winked at her before latching his full lips around her throbbing clit. “ _ Ooooh!”  _

The tip of his tongue flicked over the tiny bud, sending intense waves of pleasure rippling up her stomach, and she just wanted to bloody move. She wanted control, to flip him on his back and ride him until she was falling apart. 

But when his tongue dragged down, finding her entrance and shoving inside, she swore she’d give up control the rest of her life if he kept fucking her with his mouth like that. His hands worked in time with his tongue, massaging the undersides of her thighs as she began rutting against his face. 

His mouth latched onto her again while two fingers slid inside her, curling and beckoning to her, finding that sweet little spot she barely remembered existed while his tongue did wicked things to her clit. 

“You taste so fucking good, Hermione.” His deep voice sent a jolt up her spine, and her back arched wantonly off the bed. Each word plucked away at her carefully until she felt the familiar beginnings of her orgasm. “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow without remembering that it was me between your legs. I want you wincing when you sit for tea.  _ Come for me.”  _

His lips closed over her once more, sucking and licking as his fingers pumped in and out of her to a steady pace. Against her volition, her thighs pressed closed, and her hands came down to twine in his hair, yanking at the crimson locks as she cried out the final vestiges of her orgasm. 

“That’s a good girl, love,” he purred against her thigh, and her jaw fell open as she shuddered. The final spasms of her orgasms faded, and her legs fell, hands useless on her lap as he rose to his feet. She couldn’t help but chuckle at his unruly hair and roguish smile as his hand came up to his mouth and wiped the evidence of her away. 

She watched in rapture, her breath still wild, as every thick strip of muscle on his body tensed and flexed; he looked cut from stone. With a few hard tugs, his trousers were pooled on the floor, and she allowed herself to take in the sight of this twenty-one-year-old man standing stark naked in front of her. 

Suddenly, she felt…  _ unworthy. _ All stretch marks and scars, soft curves instead of taut lines like in her youth. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Hermione. Did you know that?” He gripped his length, languidly stroking his cock as he stared down at her. Merlin, she must look quite the sight. Wild curls and her dress rucked up to her waist. 

Another long-stroke, his thumb swiping across his head, and her mouth ran dry. Lips quirking in a lopsided smirk, Teddy reached down to grab the satin tie still secured around her wrists, guiding her gently to her feet. His eyes stayed trained on her as he pulled the fabric free, letting her hands fall to her sides as his own wound behind her, easily finding her zipper and begging to inch it downward. 

A little nervous huff slipped past her lips, and her hands came up to his chest, her round, worried eyes meeting his. He paused as she ducked her face in shame. 

“I’m—” Her throat felt too tight. “I’m not young like Gwen. I mean, you know that, obviously. But I just mean to say is that, well—” Words failed her spectacularly, and she bit down on her lip before continuing. “I’ve had two kids is all. I don’t look like I did when I was twenty-one.” 

Drawing on the last ounce of courage she had, she lifted her gaze to his and found him staring back at her with a knitted brow. “I don’t want you when you’re twenty-one. I want you. And I want you right the fuck now.” 

His lips crushed into hers as he tugged the zipper the rest of the way down, letting the fabric slide over her delicate curves and pool at their feet. Nipping her lip, his hands gripped her arse so hard it teetered on that delightful line of pleasure and pain, and before she could register the movement, he’d turned her. 

Curling his fingers around her bony hips, he dragged her back into him. She could feel the heat of his erection hard against her bum, and her lower back curved, pressing into him as one of her hands came up to curl around his neck, pulling his face down to hers. 

She couldn’t think—couldn’t breathe. He stole all reasonable thought and the air straight from her lungs as his hands mapped out her body, memorising the curves of her waist and up to massage her breasts, pulling and teasing her nipples as his tongue dipped into her mouth. She could taste the salty remnants of her orgasm on his tongue, and it spurred her, lit a fire even deeper in her belly that wanted  _ more-more-more. _

With a grunt, he stepped away from her, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades until she was bent at the waist, her hands supporting her weight and her bum presented for him. “ _ Fucking hell, _ ” he growled under his breath. “Dreams do come fucking true.” 

His hand gripped her right knee, lifting it onto the mattress so only one of her feet was still resting on the floor, and as he positioned his tip at her entrance, a hot hand came down on her arse, earning a yelp even as he soothed the sting away. 

“That’s a good girl.” Sinking his tip between her folds, she hung her head and let out a low moan. 

“ _ More, Teddy _ .” 

With a soft laugh, he buried himself to the hilt, stilling with one hand braced on her hip and the other on the small of her back. “More, you say?” 

“Please.” Merlin, she was better than begging for cock. She knew this. Yet, still, here she was, grinding her arse against her bodyguard and practically crying out for it. 

“There’s a little trick that comes with my peculiar genetic condition, love.” Slowly he slid out until his tip was again just at her entrance, and she pressed back onto him, filling herself and rotating her hips in a vain attempt to get the  _ more _ for herself. 

A low noise came from him, and she felt so delightfully full as his fingers dug into her sides. With a start she realized that he was growing inside her, filling her up until she was gripping the duvet in her fists and crying out in pleasure. 

“Te-d-dyy—” He snapped his hips, and she felt him expand another time. “Fuck, I can’t. It’s too much.” She shook her head, her hips rocking back and forth as he shushed her. 

“That’s it,” he crooned, sliding in and out of her at a maddening pace, one hand snaking to fill his palm with her breast. “You’re doing so good, Hermione. You take my cock so bloody well.” 

Merlin, the depraved and filthy things this man was saying to her should have her outraged, but it had the opposite effect; she was nearly mewling like an animal in heat, rocking back and forth as he mumbled praises over her body, worshiping every silvery stretch mark with his fingertips and running his palm down her spine to massage the globe of her arse. 

“Are you okay, love?” His voice was strained and Hermione whimpered her assent. Both hands held onto her hips as he gave a hard thrust into her. There was no time for her to recover from the sudden change in pace because he set out a punishing rhythm; the only sound in the room was the mix of their grunts and moans paired with the slapping of his hips against her arse. 

“Come for me, Hermoine.” His voice was tight as his hand slipped around her, quickly finding her clit and beckoning another orgasm from her. Her face planted in the soft fabric of the duvet, quieting her moans as her arms stretched overhead and she crested. 

Teddy’s hips slowed, driving into her with a few, long purposeful strokes. The hand that had been rubbing her came up to press between her shoulder blades, steadying himself as he emptied inside her with a strangled gasp. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, stilling for a moment before sliding from inside her and flipping her on her back. There was barely a moment where they weren’t touching before he was crawling over her and peppering her cheeks and neck with kisses. “You’re so fucking perfect. So perfect.” 

Sagging into the mattress, Hermione brought her hands up to brush the hair from his eyes, noticing it was a bright, bubblegum pink. She chuckled, her hand cupping his cheek as she guided his gaze to hers. 

“Your hair is bright pink.” 

Realisation dawned on him, and he chuckled under his breath, dipping his face back into the crook of her neck. “So it is.” 

Unsatisfied with the answer, Hermione gently rolled them so he was now on his back and she was folding her arms over his chiseled chest, staring at his amused smirk with genuine curiosity. “I’ve never seen it pink before. Why’d you change it?”

His grin widened, and he dragged a hand through his overgrown hair. “I didn’t change it on purpose. I mean, I can. But if my guard is down, it tends to shift on it’s own; it follows my mood mostly.” 

With a furrowed brow she thought back to all the shades she’d seen. Crimson when he had that dangerously lustful edge to his eyes, purple once or twice, but teal mostly. Never pink. 

“Like a mood ring?”

“A  _ what _ ?”

“A mood ring; maybe it’s a Muggle thing. It’s a little gem that changes with your body heat so people can tell your mood. Your hair does that too?” 

“I guess?” Bright laughter trickled through the air, and Hermione shifted so she could kiss him quickly on the mouth. 

“Well?” She inferred, her brows lifted high. 

“Well, what? I still need another few minutes before we go again—but not long.” 

Her palm came down hard on his chest in a playful admonishment, and they both chuckled as she then pushed the fringe from his forehead. One arm was tucked neatly behind his head as he stared up at the canopy. 

“ _ Well, _ what does pink mean? What mood is it?”

A slow, Cheshire grin spread over his lips, but his gaze didn’t wander. He chuckled once. “It usually means I’ve very happy.” 

Hermione rose up on her hands, staring down at him with a studious glare, wondering just how full of shite he might be. But something inside of her implored her to see the truth: Teddy was just genuinely happy to be with her. She kissed him again. 

Their lips moved slowly together, the arm previously tucked behind his head moving to thread through her curls and guide her into a deeper kiss. She couldn’t stop bloody touching him; her hands wandered over the dips and curves of his chest, down to his hip and back up again. 

As she moved, she felt the brush of his erection, and she balked, eyes opening round as she pulled back from the kiss. Surely, he couldn’t be ready again  _ that _ quickly. He was young, but Merlin, it must have taken Ron a week to get an erection back. 

“What?” He grinned, and her gaze rose to his hair, now a deep red, and she couldn’t help but choke on a giggle. “I can’t help it, alright? You’re fucking sexy.” 

More laughter spilled past her lips as he rolled them back, and he tickled the crook of her neck with his stubble, hitching her knee up over his hip. 

xXx

**A/N: Happy Monday!! As always, thanks for your lovely response to this story. It fills me with absolute joy! **

**Endless loves, hugs, and kisses to Alpha Beta team: MCal, In Dreams, and Ravenslight! You guys are so wonderful to me!**

**I recently started posting my time travel Dramione fic, The Troublesome Thing About Time. It’s written and just being edited, so I’ll work on quick updates there if you’d like to follow me there also! **

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**See you next Monday, friends! Once I finish writing this story I’ll pick up with quicker updates ;) Give me a week or so!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Warning: Lemons ahead. **

London was bleak. Rain drizzled in a hazy mist from the heavens, and as soon as she stepped from the Ministry and into a deep puddle that drenched her favorite suede pumps, Hermione knew that this blasted town was out to get her. 

Shaking the rain from her ankle, she brought her wand up in an umbrella charm and turned to her two employees, one of which had woken her just a few short hours ago with his head between her thighs. Avoiding direct eye contact with the culprit himself, she spoke generally and kept her chin up. 

“You two enjoy your Sunday! Gwen, take the morning off; you’ve worked hard this weekend.” Teddy’s lips split into a wide grin, and a blush rose to Hermione’s cheeks. “Teddy, I’m sure you’re scheduled a few days off, so I’ll see you soon.” 

“Soon, Minister.” His voice trembled through her, and her blush turned frantically hot as she nodded to the both of them and made for the Apparition point a few feet away. She turned, her magic curling around her and her eyes catching Teddy’s wicked smirk, and then she was gone.

xXx

Despite the early hour, Hermione was already in her loungewear. She was adorned in an oversized Gryffindor sweatshirt and thin cotton pyjama bottoms with narwhals littered all over the fabric—her favorite gift from Hugo when he was just five years old. She had a mug of tea, a new book from her favourite Muggle bookstore, and absolutely no plans for the rest of the day. 

Every time she thought back to her trip, guilt washed over her. She shouldn’t have turned to Teddy like that, but she couldn’t help but feel like she knew him intimately. Like he somehow held the answer to her endless list of troublesome worries. 

She couldn’t quit thinking of him; she wasn’t sure she wanted to. 

Cradling her tea close and grabbing the thin throw draped across the sofa, Hermione settled in for a long day of absolutely nothing. 

As she brought the steaming mug to her lips, a sudden knock at the door pierced the tranquil moment, and she growled to herself and dabbed hot coffee from her chin. The knock sounded again, and Hermione set down her drink and padded across the room. A small part of her hoped it might be— well, someone she shouldn’t be wishing for, but she  _ knew _ that knock. She knew the cadence of it and could already picture the displeased little turn of his mouth at having to wait in the hall for more than a moment.

With a long sigh, she pulled the door open. “Hello, Harry.” 

His emerald eyes were narrowed and serious behind his new frames, his arms crossed in a way that Hermione would have expected from herself, not so much from him. “Hermione.” 

They stood, locked in a strange battle for dominance she hadn’t been expecting to be dragged into today. Finally, when she could stand his pouting no longer, she gesticulated sharply with her hands and huffed her indignation. “Yes? Is there a reason you’re interrupting this fine Sunday? I’ve had a helluva week and—”

“I talked to Ron.” Her eyes darted quickly to their feet, even though his tone had softened remarkably. Her throat tightened, her lips moving silently, trying to form words that never came. Harry’s arms—the home she’d come to know over these past thirty years—wound tightly around her shoulders, and she was dragged into his chest. His words were muffled by her hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

The pain sinking in her belly was visceral and heavy, yet she wasn’t crying. She  _ should _ be crying, shouldn’t she? Her divorce was days away, and Harry now knew. There was a reason Hermione had wanted to put off Harry knowing; Harry knowing made everything real. 

One of Harry’s arms fell away, and he guided her gently by the shoulders inside. A few steps and she was falling into the seat she’d just vacated, Harry pushing the tea back into her hands. 

“I knew you guys were having problems,” he said after a long bout of silence, “but Merlin, I thought you guys were in counseling! I thought you were still trying—”

“We did counseling for a year,” Hermoine croaked. “We gave ourselves until Hugo left for school, and then we knew we’d have to make a real decision about our future.”

Worry drenched his emerald-coloured eyes. “And you’re sure this is what you want?”

“I haven’t been happy in so long; I hardly remember what it’s like to really  _ be _ happy. Our marriage wasn’t a waste; we have two beautiful, brilliant children, but I just— I don’t know, Harry. Somewhere along the way, I realized that I don’t want the rest of my life to be like this. It can’t be.” 

“And you’re quite sure it’s nothing to do with that very big birthday coming up? I know how much you hate it—remember thirty-five?” Harry poked her in the ribs and earned a soft laugh as Hermoine’s disastrous bob haircut and drunken stupor was brought to the forefront of her mind. 

“It’s nothing to do with my birthday, Harry. Ron feels the same way—it’s time to cut our losses and work on moving forward.”

From the corner of her eye, her friend’s shoulders slumped; his hand reached out for her, resting on her knee. “All I want is for you to be happy, Hermione. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’m not upset you and Ron are splitting or anything of the sort; I’m just upset you’ve been going through all this alone. I could’ve been there.” 

“I had Katie,” Hermoine teased, and Harry’s nose wrinkled. He was admittedly not Katie Bell’s biggest fan, what with her tendency to blurt out any passing thought and get too drunk at Ministry Christmas parties. 

“ _ Brilliant _ .” 

“You were just… too close. I needed time to figure it out, and then it all happened so quickly. Before I knew it, the solicitor papers arrived.” Harry’s fingers tightened briefly on her knee, and she loosened a shuddering breath. “How’s Ron?”

Harry clucked his tongue. “You know how he is. He internalizes everything. He’s drinking too much—but that’s always the case—and he’s...” Harry paused, coughing into his fist before slowly lifting his gaze to hers, “He’s dating.”

The words slammed into her like a wayward blunger. Hermione blinked several long times at her lifelong friend.  _ Dating. _ Ron? No. Not possible. 

“What do you mean?” It seemed the safest question; after all, it was the only one that actually made sense. 

“That’s how I found out. I almost beat the shite out of him when I stumbled across him and some woman at a restaurant in London. It was actually quite a scene.” Harry chuckled to himself. “Dragged his arse out of his seat by his collar and all.” 

The stiffness of the moment dissipated, and Hermione barked out a loud laugh. “Harry Potter, you did not!” 

“I thought he was bloody cheating on you, Hermione. Of course, I did. But, yeah, all this to say: please clue me on these major life changes if you will? It’ll stop me from making an arse out of myself in posh restaurants.” 

Something inky and horribly green twisted in her gut at the thought that Ron was taking new women out to posh restaurants when he couldn’t be bothered to take her anywhere that required a belt in the last five years. 

“Next time I plan to divorce your best friend I will most definitely let you know. Let’s hope it’s a non-issue moving forward.” A weak smile graced her lips, and he clapped his hands together and rose to his feet. 

Together, they crossed her flat towards the door, and she let herself sink into his hug once more. “I love you, Hermione. Things are gonna be okay, yeah?”

She nodded, her fingers digging into the wool of his jumper before releasing him and reaching up to tussle his hair. “Yeah, Harry. Things are gonna be okay.” 

With an awkward lift of his fingers, he was gone, and Hermione closed the door behind him, resting her forehead on the thick wood for a moment. 

Harry knew. 

Hermione was getting a divorce. 

She screamed when another knock on the door beat against where her forehead lay, and with a scowl, she jumped back and wrenched the door open. “What, Har— _ Teddy? _ ” 

Sliding sideways past her and into her flat, Hermoine stared at the thick expanse of his shoulders, no longer in a suit like she’d grown accustomed to but instead in a black jumper and denims. When he turned, there was a tiny badger stitched into the fabric over his heart. His hair was deep crimson, and her body ached, remembering the way he felt inside her this morning.

“Did you—” Hermione paused, clearing her throat and shifting uncomfortably, all of a sudden too aware of her clothing choice. “Did something happen? Is everything okay?” 

His lips pulled into a smirk, and with a flick of his wrist, the doorknob was wrenched from her palm and the door slammed shut. With two long strides, he was on her, pressing her firmly against the door. 

“Nothing happened,” he mumbled against her throat. “Everything’s okay.” His tongue darted out, wetting a spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder before latching onto it, sucking hard. “I just thought he’d never bloody leave.” 

Of their own accord, her hands moved up to twine in his hair; in her mind, she was going to detach him from her person so they could speak properly, but when his teeth dragged along the thin skin of her throat, she found she was pulling him closer, back arching into him as she let out a low whimper. 

Before she had time to register the act, her jumper was being yanked over her head, leaving her in a thin tank top as he bent to leave a trail of wet kisses down her clavicle and over her breasts. His mouth closed over the thin fabric of her shirt, taking her pebbled nipple into his mouth. Hands curling over his shoulders, she dug her nails into his muscle as her head fell and knocked against the door. 

“Teddy… we should…  _ hnunghh _ — _ ”  _ Dropping to his knees, Teddy pushed up the hem of her shirt. Hermione mourned the loss of all logical thought; it died a weak, barely noticeable death as his large hands curled around the bones of her hips and pulled her into his face. 

“What’s that, Hermione?” His palms found her arse, squeezing firmly as she felt the little resolve she’d been holding onto wither away. She was aching for him, the walls of her sex pulsing and hot with her need, and when he looked up at her from down on his knees, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes with a soft growl of resignation. 

He tugged down her pyjama bottoms, leaving in her a modest pair of knickers. Teddy’s hands didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop kneading and massaging as his lips left breadcrumbs of his exploration all over her torso. Shortly after, her knickers followed her bottoms, tossed Merlin knows where, as his hand curled around her calf and lifted it over his shoulder. 

Eyes clenched tightly, Hermione chewed on her lip as one hand slid from the curve of her bum and pushed quickly into her silken folds. Her mouth fell open, wanton little noises slipping from her lips as his tongue flicked out against her clit. Pumping in and out of her at a sinfully delicious pace, Teddy hummed in appreciation asHermione bucked her hips into him. 

The hand not buried deep inside her snaked up her torso, palming and massaging her breast over her shirt, and Godric help her, but her own hand fell over his, moving in tandem as she rode his face. 

“ _ Fuck, Teddy—”  _ She felt him smile against her mound, his fingers curling to hit that spot that made her—  _ ooooh.  _

_ “ _ That’s the general idea. Come for me, love. I want to fuck you against this door.” His voice was low, commanding her, and when he sucked her clit between his full lips and then began laving long strokes against it with his tongue, she did just that. An overwhelming, mind blistering orgasm washed over her in waves, darkening her vision as she lost herself with her fingers tangled in his hair. 

As the last of her orgasm faded and her body began to go slack, Teddy rose, ripping his shirt over his head in a single fluid motion and then crushed his lips against hers. The taste of her was still on his lips, and the way he plunged his tongue between her lips, just like he’d done between her folds, made her keen. 

Yanking his belt loose, she quickly freed his cock. He wasn’t wearing any pants under his denims, which unexpectedly made her knees buckle, her weight giving out under her. His trousers pooled at his ankles, and his hands gripped the curve under her bum, lifting her easily into his arms as he positioned her entrance at his head. There was barely a beat of a second as the warmth of his cock sank inside her, his torso pinning her to the door as her arms wound tightly around his neck. 

She could feel him growing inside her, filling her as his lips latched onto her neck, and when she finally cried out, feeling like he might split her if he continued on, he began thrusting. Soft grunts filled the air as he drove into her, his hands gripping her arse hard enough to leave bruises. 

There was no escape from him. He was somehow everywhere all at once, lips and hips and endless touches. Still, she wanted more. She wanted it again and again and  _ again _ for as long as he’d have her because this must be why people became sex addicts. It must have been like this for everyone else for their entire lives and—  _ damnit _ , Katie was right.

His hips snapped once, twice, three more times, and then he stilled, a low strangled noise rumbling against the crook of her neck as he held tightly to her. It was Hermione to seek him out, turning her face and searching for his lips until they were pressing against each other softly, almost reverently. And this time when his tongue brushed against hers, she whimpered and pulled him closer. Their lips parted only because he grinned, and she wanted to chastise him for his apparent smugness but settled for a quick, playful nip of his bottom lip. 

“Do you want to stay awhile?” She ran her fingers through his hair, currently the shade of bubblegum, and his eyes danced, changing from hazel to blue and back to hazel in the span of a breath. 

He shifted under her, sliding from her folds and hoisting her up higher as he toed off his shoes and discarded his denims where they stood. Turning for her bedroom, Teddy’s lips brushed once more against hers, and his fingers tightened under her bum. “As long as you’ll have me, Minister.” 

xXx

Moonbeams streaked through the open windows, lighting their tangled legs as Teddy’s fingers trailed softly up and down her spine. If this moment had a sound, it would be a  _ purr. _ Content and quiet, audible only if you paid enough attention. 

Hermione was laying on her stomach, Teddy just to her side as her eyes drifted closed for the umpteenth time. The day had been full of sex and the serenity of  _ after;  _ they paused for takeaway, though Hermione insisted he stay safely hidden in the bedroom lest the delivery girl have a big fat mouth and salacious intentions of running off to  _ Witch Weekly _ . 

But they were now deep into the night. London was fast asleep, and she should be, too. Reality waited in the morning, ready to steal this temporary happiness. It was too easy to delude herself when Teddy’s bare chest brushed against her and his lips took over for his fingers, sprinkling featherlight kisses along each vertebrae until he was dangerously near her bum. 

She stiffened slightly as he made his way to the curve of her arse, his hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, but he just chuckled and fell back down next to her. “Fear not, Minister. I’m kinky, but not  _ that _ kinky.” 

Hermione’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t think I’m kinky. Or at least, I wouldn’t know. This is by far the most…  _ adventurous _ I’ve ever been.” She rolled then, the sheet falling away and exposing her breasts. Out of habit, she reached for it, tugging it up, but Teddy’s fingers wrapped around her wrist, and with a small pout, she released it. 

His gaze left hers, traveling slowly down her neck to her chest and finally to her breasts. Once, she’d been quite proud of them; they’d been of perfect size and shape, perky even. Ron had always gawked at them in the early days of their intimate relationship. They were nothing to be ashamed of now, certainly. But she found herself far more self-conscious than she’d been in her youth, and a hot blush bloomed on her chest as he stared at them, cupping her breast in his palm and gliding the pad of his thumb over her nipple. 

“I wish you could see how beautiful I think you are; if you could, I don’t think you’d doubt yourself another day of your life.” His eyes shot up to hers, dark and dangerous, and her breath hitched. 

“I don’t know what you think you see, Teddy. I’m twice your age, and you’re all...” Her voice trailed off as her fingers splayed over the hard curve of muscle on his chest. 

Shaking his head, he gripped her hip and pulled her so she was straddling his lap. A laugh bubbled from deep inside her as she reached for the blankets and wrapped them around herself like a cocoon. 

“ _ Teddy!” _

His hands stayed firm, curling around her hips as her heat pressed against his growing member. Grinning up at her, he bit down on his lip and rocked her once. Sliding his palms to her bum, he squeezed, and she let out a little yelp. 

“I like _ this. _ The curve of your arse in your smart little skirts. Merlin knows the number of times I’ve wanked in the shower thinking about bending you over your desk and sliding my cock between your legs.” 

A low whimper vibrated from her throat as he grew under her. Gently, he reached up and pulled the sheet away; reluctantly, she let him. 

Bare in the moonlight, she felt heat blossoming over her skin. Teddy shifted, dragging them up until he was seated, resting against the headboard, his nose bumping into hers. “I love this curve,” he said slowly, his lips barely brushing against her skin as his hands traced the gentle slope of her waist. “And this one.” 

His palms tracked over her bum, the tips of his fingers digging into the thick flesh there and pulling her closer. All his words sank deep into her soul, slow embers stoked to life, and her hands came up to rest on the headboard while his lips  _ finally _ pressed to her clavicle, then further south. 

In slow, torturous tandem, his hands and his mouth worked towards each other, fingers gliding up her ribs and skimming the curve of her breast. When they joined, his palms filling with the weight of her as his tongue darted out to flick her sensitive nipple, she keened, hips rocking forward of their own volition, while her fingers tried in vain to dig into the headboard. 

“And don’t get me started on these fucking tits—” His head fell back, and he stared lewdly, running his thumbs over her pert nipples. “Gods, I used to daydream about them, about dragging my teeth over every inch of ivory skin and making you come just by doing this.” As he talked, his fingers followed his words, and he began toying with her until she was panting and her eyes fluttered closed. 

She mumbled his name, rising up so he could position himself under her but he didn’t; his hands released her breasts, and he sat up, pressing his broad chest against hers and wrapping his thick arms around her slender waist. 

“I want every inch of you, Hermione. Don’t forget that.” Capturing her mouth in a tender kiss, he slid a hand between them and poised himself between her folds. 

Slowly, she sank down, gasping against his lips he filled her. Each movement was slow and purposeful as they rocked against each other, their quiet breaths filling the night as his hands roamed her body, reverently memorizing every last dip and curve until finally, he started to thrust into her with renewed vigor, bringing them both over the edge in a shared orgasm. 

This one felt different, felt heavier—more important. And as he rolled them to the side and dragged her into his arms, she couldn’t help but feel like she was in a whole mess of trouble. 

xXx

**Endless thanks to my Alpha/Beta team, MCal and Ravenslight. **

**And many thanks to you, lovely reader! I appreciate you coming back each week and sharing your thoughts with me. It makes me oh so happy!**


	7. Chapter 7

Dragging her favorite quill through her fingers, Hermione stared blankly at the interdepartmental memo on her desk. She must have read it a dozen times by now, but she couldn’t stop gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she remembered the last forty-eight hours. 

Biting back a smile, she was quite certain she’d never felt this alive, this fucking  _ good _ . Her fingers curled around her neck, finding the sensitive love bite she’d had to glamour this morning and tracing the edges of it with her finger. Lost in her daydreams, she barely registered the escalated voices outside her chamber doors. Not until the door was being thrown open. 

Jumping to her feet, Hermione gripped her wand, her startled gaze falling on a furious Ron, and she groaned and fell back into her seat. Merlin, it was only nine o’clock on a Monday morning. How on earth could she have irritated him already?

Her security, an Auror assigned to her when her normal detail was off, was hot on his heels, wand tight in his hand and shoulders squared, ready to escort her husband out.

Loosening a long breath, Hermione fortified herself for the mental and emotional battle ahead. Ron was a dirty fighter, and Hermione could be spiteful to a fault when pushed. She’d never been so grateful for magic as when they’d come to blows while their kids were in the house. 

“What is it, Ron?” 

“You fucking kidding me, ‘Mione?” A sneer curled over his features as he crossed the room and tossed the morning paper at her chest. “We haven’t even told the bloody kids yet and you’re getting handsy with some tosser overseas?” 

Dread coiled tight in her stomach, and her gaze caught on the pictures gracing the cover of the  _ Daily Prophet _ in quick succession. “Goddamnit,” she growled, her fingers curling in the flimsy paper before tossing it in the trash. “It’s not what you think, Ron.” 

From over her husband’s shoulder, the Auror cleared his throat, making meaningful eye contact with her once, but she lifted her fingers in a dismissal. 

“Call your dogs off,” Ron snapped, turning to glare over his shoulder. “She’s my wife! I’m not a terrorist, for Merlin’s sake.” 

Acquiescing for the sake of her own mental well-being, she gave a half-hearted smile to the bloke. “It’s fine. You can step out.” She paused, leveling Ron with a pointed stare. “I’ll buzz if I need you to stun him.” 

There was a stilted moment as the Auror listened, his lip pulling back before turning on his heel and disappearing around the corner. Ron pulled out his wand and waved it behind him, slamming the door shut.

“How could you? We said we’d tell the kids  _ together _ .” There was almost an air of sadness to his tone, but it quickly morphed into disgust. “Then you go and pull this shite at an event like that? How stupid are you? Of course there would be reporters swarming the place; it’s the reason I can’t fucking stand going.” 

Rage boiled under her skin, and she was quickly on her feet, rounding her desk and pointing a heavy finger right back at him. “Give me a break, Ron. You were on a date this weekend and I know it; Harry told me, so enough of your self-righteous bullshite.” 

Ron’s face morphed into bewildered amusement as he gesticulated wildly to the heavens. “ _ Of course _ you’d find a way to clear your name and put the blame on me. So bloody typical—”

“ _ That’s not what I’m doing!”  _

_ “ _ There’s a difference—”

“Yeah? Please, do tell, Ronald.” 

Suddenly he was only a step away, his face turning red in his ire and spit spraying from his lips.  _ “My date wasn’t bloody photographed in the _ Prophet _ !  _ You couldn’t at least keep your slagging behind closed doors—” 

_ Smack! _

The silence pulsed angrily around them as realisation slammed into her. She’d hit him. In all their years of marriage, all their countless fights, they’d never laid hands on each other. Hot pain blossomed on her palm as their magic surged to life around them, pushing on each other for space as Ron’s face shot back to hers. 

“Don’t speak to me like that.” Though she willed it not to her, her voice trembled. “Not as your wife and certainly not as the Minister for Magic. I demand respect; I’ve earned it.” 

“Not from me, Hermione. You lost it a long time ago.” Ron’s jaw tightened, and he turned from her, his palm coming up to soothe the angry red mark forming on his cheek. “Tonight at six o’clock. The Three Broomsticks. We tell the kids, and then I’ll see you at the solicitor on Thursday. After that, we’re done.” 

It shouldn’t hurt, shouldn’t lance through her like the final arrow of a battle she had long since lost, but it did. The door rattled as it slammed behind him, and she threw up hasty locking and silencing charms, screaming into the void as a burst of accidental magic threw the objects of her desk in every direction. 

xXx

“You should eat.” Katie’s low tone sliced through the silence, and Hermione blinked up from her sad little salad, realizing all at once that she wasn’t alone. 

With a weak smile, Hermione nodded. “Did you see the  _ Prophet _ ?” Her fingers lifted, massaging her temples. 

“S’not that bad. At least the bloke was attractive; he could have been a troll.” Katie’s voice carried that jeering quality that Hermoine had come to love, but it was laced with remorse. This was a monumental shite storm, and Hermoine didn’t have the know-how or desire to fix it. 

Her children would have seen those photos by now, as would the majority of London. The bastard must have sent them by fucking priority owl to get them here by this morning’s deadline, and that revelation sent a fiery rage to her chest. 

Sitting back, Hermione buried her face in her hands and let out a loud groan. “We’ve got to tell the kids tonight.” Rose and Hugo’s faces flashed behind her lids, and fresh panic swelled inside her. “ _ She’s gonna kill me _ .” 

“She’ll be alright,” Katie urged, her voice suddenly much closer as Hermione felt a comforting palm on her shoulder. “Rip the plaster off. Sign those papers and be done with it all. You deserve it.” 

Dropping her hands to her desk, an incredulous mask contorted her features. “Do I? I’m a fucking wreck.”

“You’re not.” 

“Yes…” She chuckled. “Yes, I am.” 

“No, Hermione, you’re—”

“I slept with Teddy,” Hermione blurted, her face screwing up on one side in a pained grimace. There was a beat of silence, and then another confession bubbled past her lips. “A lot. Like…  _ a lot, a lot. _ ”

Nervously, Hermione peeked up at her friend, finding a blank expression staring back at her. A riot of nerves clanged in the open spaces of her chest, and she wished she could just suck it all back in, erase the entire ordeal from existence. 

“Oh my god,” Katie breathed.

With a frantic little noise, Hermione beat her forehead against her desk twice before rising quickly to her feet and pacing. “I know. Okay, it was a mistake, right? I mean,  _ of course, _ it was a mistake. I’m old enough to be his bloody mother.  _ He dated my niece _ ! Good Godric, what on earth have I done…”

“This is…  _ fantastic.”  _

Hermione’s face snapped to her friend’s, her voice now considerably brighter and her jaw gaping wide. “ _ What?” _

“Oh, I’m so jealous.” Katie’s lips pursed as she hid a smile, and then with a girlish squeal, she was on her feet and wrapping Hermione in a tight hug. “Tell me everything. How many times can he go in one night?”

Blinking several times, Hermione’s brow knitted as she stared at her friend, who seemed to have completely lost her damn mind. “Kate, I’m telling you I had sex with my employee, Harry’s godson, a twenty-one year old. Are none of these raising alarms for you?”

“Hell no. I want to know what that man looks like naked and how many times he can make you come. Don’t worry, hands-off, Minister. But Godric, one of us should be getting fucked into oblivion, and while I admit I wish it was me, I’m still happy for you.” 

Barking out a laugh, Hermione rushed at her sweet friend, crushing her in a hug. “Thank you.” 

Katie pulled back, staring at her curiously. “For what?”

“For just being unapologetically you. I need to be more like that from time to time.” 

Falling back into her seat, she groaned in horror as Katie summoned a chair to her side and curled up, waiting for the more juicy bits of gossip that Hermione was willing to divulge. 

xXx

“Gwen!” Hermione barely slowed her march from her office, shrugging on her Minister’s robes and making for her private lift, her assistant hot on her heels. “I need to rush down to oversee a case in the Wizengamot. I’m expecting an owl from MACUSA; would you place any mail on my desk?”

“Of course, Minister. And the press release is scheduled for six o’clock in the Atrium.” That statement was enough to cause Hermione to pause, and she turned with a tightly knit brow and a cocked head. 

“I told you I wasn’t doing a press conference and  _ certainly _ not today. I need to head straight to Hogsmeade; I don’t have time—”

“I know, Minister. But the press has demanded a statement and… I really did try to dissuade them, but they were quite insistent. They said they’d be in the atrium at six waiting. You could always not show?”

“ _ Fuck _ !” Hermione hissed, stabbing her fists into her hips. “Fine. I’ll be there at six for a  _ brief _ statement, but I need to get straight to Hogsmeade after. Change the Portkey, would you?” Her eyes fluttered closed briefly as she inhaled slowly through her nose. “And owl Ron. Tell him I’m going to be just a few minutes late. He’s going to have my fucking arse over this.” 

Turning, she disappeared through the grate with her security detail at her side. 

xXx

“Fuck, I’m late!” Hermione burst from the lift, shrugging from her robes as she tore through the entry to her chambers. “Gwen! Do you have the Portkey? It’s already bloody six, and I’m not downstairs—”

“Portkey is here ma’am!” Gwen shoved a trinket in Hermione’s coat pocket and then held it up for her to slide into. “Mister Weasley has been notified and said he will meet you with the kids at the Three Broomsticks.”

Wildly gathering what she could in arms, Hermione gave a tight smile to her assistant and hauled arse for the door. 

“Wait! Did you want your mail?”

“Shite!” Hermione stopped, blowing out a sharp gust of air to rid her of a pesky curl. She was already halfway out the door with her brief in one hand and an armful of scrolls in the other. “Send them to the London flat, and I’ll deal with them after I handle the rest of this bloody mess. Yeah?” 

“Of course, Minister. Do you want me to come with you?” Gwen’s eyes rounded, and she took a half step towards the door, but Hermione quickly dismissed the idea. 

“No, you go on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Merlin, how had she gotten herself into such a fucking state? Now she would have the delightful pleasure of rushing through an unrehearsed statement about a grimy American politician before arriving— _ late— _ to meet with her family. 

Once in the lift, Hermione took a moment to shove her scrolls in her briefcase and then handed it off to the Auror at her side. Smoothing her robes, she fixed a blank expression over her features and squared her shoulders. 

“This is going to fucking suck,” Hermione said flatly as the lift chimed their arrival.

“Which part, Minister? The press conference or after with Mister Weasley?”

With a hard inhale, Hermione tilted her chin proudly. “Both. Always both.” 

xXx

“Are you and Ron Weasley separated?”

“Are you having an affair with the American congressman?”

“How can the public be sure that your romantic ties with Mister Watson in no way affected the creation of the ICM? Was that how you secured the American vote?”

Hermione pushed through the throngs of reporters, her security clearing the way as she tried to make it further into the Ministry. Finding her ground in front of the mammoth statue in the center of the Atrium, Hermione turned to face the cameras awaiting her statement. 

“Good evening. I only have a moment as I am meeting my children tonight, so please bear with me. I am in no way involved romantically with the American congressman, Drew Watson. Mister Watson had a little too much to drink; we’ve all been there—” this earned a quiet rumble of laughter “—and unfortunately got a little too familiar with me. My security stepped in immediately, and all is forgiven. I hope this handles any salacious gossip circulating, as we all know you have plenty more important things to report on.” 

The Auror stepped forward and whispered in her ear. “Five minutes to Portkey, Minister.” 

Nodding, she returned her attention to the crowd in front of her. “I have time for two questions.” 

“What did your husband have to say about the photos circulating?” 

A hot blush spread up her neck as she shifted and cleared her throat. “Ron was mortified, as was I. However, he understands the situation and I’m sure would request that Mister Watson keep his hands to himself next time.” 

Another bubble of low laughter and Hermione nodded to another reporter in the back. “Will this scandal affect the IMC?”

Narrowing her eyes and wishing she had chosen a different reporter, Hermoine answered. “There’s no scandal, Mister Pennyfoot. And I have never been more confident in the future of the IMC. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make it to my Portkey.” 

“ _ One more, Minister! _ ” 

Against her better judgment, Hermione paused, turning back toward the crowd and the mousy young girl in the front row who’d called out to her. That’d been her once, bright-eyed and looking for any way up the ladder; her resolve weakened, and she silently acquiesced.

“Sources say that you and Ron Weasley are in the process of getting a divorce. Can you speak on that?” 

_ Bloody hell.  _

The question silenced the crowd, and crimson twinged the sides of Hermione’s vision. She couldn’t tell the truth, not without telling the kids and having Ron’s okay to go public, but she couldn’t lie either. Honesty was important, and when the divorce finally did make headlines in a week’s time, Hermione would have to answer for her lie today. 

Her mouth ran dry, tongue heavy and useless in her mouth as she sighed.

“Minister, one minute to Portkey.” 

“Your constituents deserve to know the truth, Minister Granger!” the mousy girl called, her quill hovering over her parchment, ready to obliterate Hermione’s career. 

“Yes.” Everything ceased to exist. In forty years, this would be the moment that changed everything. There would only be before this and after this. Before was safe. It was known and comfortable,  _ predictable _ ; it was Ron. 

But after? Fear coiled around her throat, and she blinked herself back into the moment—into the dozen recording devices shoved in her face and the flashes of half as many cameras. 

“Ron and I have decided it is time to part ways amicably. I wish him nothing but the best, and together we have built a beautiful family. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She turned, ignoring the reporters clamoring to get to her side, shouting follow-up questions that fell on deaf ears. 

xXx

“Hi!” Hermione beamed at her family tucked away in the back of the Three Broomsticks. One glance at their sour faces and coloured her tone. “I know, I know. It was—”

“Unavoidable?” Ron asked from next to Hugo, his brow lifted in disdain. 

“Actually, it was,” she responded tersely, noticing the stiffening of her children’s shoulders. “How was everyone’s day? Rose, did you have practice?”

Her daughter was currently making confetti of a paper napkin, a nervous habit Hermione knew well. “I had to miss it so I could make it here on time.” 

_ Fucking hell _ . Hermione’s head fell back, and she huffed out an exasperated breath. Merlin, she was tired of fucking failing. 

Rose shifted in her seat, pushing the strips of paper to the side and resting her hand in her palm. “Can you guys just say it so we can go? I have homework.”

“Rosie—” she started but was cut off by a surprisingly indignant Hugo. 

“How could you, Mum? The entire school is talking about it!”

At her sides, Hermione’s hands clenched into fists, and she felt red hot emotion rise in her throat. “That man was very drunk and was inappropriately touching me, Hugo. Teddy stepped in and got me away from him, but I would never do something like that to your father—or to you guys. I love you.”

“What are we supposed to say to everyone?” Rose moved fractionally further from her mother, a petulant eyebrow raised in her direction. “I’m assuming you have some speech prepared so we don’t mess up your next campaign.” 

“Merlin.” Hermione groaned, “No. Absolutely not. Tell them whatever you want, but I’d prefer the truth. The reason I’m late is because I had to speak to the press, and I set the truth straight. So hopefully that slanderous article is retracted tomorrow.”

“So, that’s it?” Rose asked. 

“No, Rosie, that’s not it.” Ron cleared his throat, shifting forward and putting his hands flat on the table. 

Hermione took the tense moment to study him, who he’d become and not the memory she’d been clinging to for so long. She wondered who he might see if he took the time to look back at her. 

His fierce blue eyes raised, locking on Hermione’s for a fraction of an instant, and the simple gesture lanced through her, pinned her to her seat as she waited. 

“Your mum and I are getting a divorce.” 

Why was this revelation hitting her so hard and so fast today? It was a runaway train, intent on dragging her along and knocking the truth into her again and again. 

Hugo’s jaw clamped shut, his eyes misting, but it was Rose who surprised Hermione the most. Fresh tears slipped over her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands. Her sweet daughter. Her firstborn. 

“ _ Why _ ?” It was a question, but it sounded more like an admonishment. “You guys love each other! Why would you get a divorce?”

Through a trembling jaw, Hermione tried to force back her own tears. “Rosie, I will always love your dad.” 

Taking her completely by surprise, Ron’s long fingers curled around Hermione’s forearm, and she was rendered speechless. 

“And I’ll always love your mum. But we don’t love each other the way we should anymore, and we can’t spend the rest of our lives being unhappy. I want your mum to be happy, and I know she feels the same about me.”

Hermione’s watery gaze locked on Ron’s, and she folded her lips in and nodded. “Of course I do. And the one thing that we are always in agreement on is you guys. We will be here for you, side-by-side. And we won’t be arguing as much!” A surprising laugh chased her words, and Ron chuckled with her, his lopsided smirk returning for the first time in years. 

“We’re a family. Always,” Ron stated, fingers tightening on Hermione’s arm one final time before dragging Hugo into his side. 

Hermione did the same to Rose, pushing her beautiful red hair from her forehead and kissing her firmly on the temple. “Always.” 

xXx

Hermione finished the first round of firewhisky while still standing at the drink cart; then she immediately poured the second and turned for the sofa. 

_ What a fucking awful day.  _

She hadn’t eaten since she’d snagged half a muffin this morning, and her feet ached in that way that made her feel like they might never recover. The kids knew. London knew. Now she just had to wait for the fallout of it all. For the inevitable sinking of this ship that she was captaining. 

The firewhisky went straight to her head, what with no food to slow it down, and when the Floo roared green, Hermione nearly groaned. She expected Harry, maybe Ginny, but she was completely stunned and left balking as Teddy strolled in. 

“ _ Teddy _ ?”

His brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms. “You shouldn’t just open your Floo for anyone.” 

A smile cracked through her cranky demeanor, and she set her firewhisky to the side. “I didn’t open it for just anyone; I opened it for you.” 

Teddy’s eyes narrowed in her direction, and he crossed the room to sit at her feet, pulling them into his denim-clad lap and relaxing as though it wasn’t absolutely insane that he be here at all. 

“How was your day?” His fingers began doing marvelous things to the soles of her feet, and she moaned as kneaded her arch. 

“Rotten,” she grumbled, picking up her drink once again. “How was your day off? I wish I could take one.” 

“You should,” he snorted. “You deserve it.” 

“After today, I might agree with you.” She paused to take a long drink, wincing as it burned the passage of her throat. “The kids and the press know about the divorce. So after Thursday, I’ll be a divorceé.” Teddy’s face was turned down, focusing on the task at hand, but she could still see the way his cheeks tugged into a smile. Her brow arched sardonically. “Is that funny?”

“No! It’s just… ” Teddy mulled over the following words, “Well, it’s kind of hot.  _ Divorceé _ .” 

Biting back a smile, she began kicking at him until he was laughing and crawling over her, resting between her thighs and kissing her cheeks. 

Her attention caught on the back of his yellow shirt, LUPIN displayed proudly across his shoulders and the number four just under it. 

“Did I know you played Quidditch?” Her fingers trailed down the taut muscle of his biceps as he hovered his weight over her. 

“If you didn’t, you should. I’m bloody brilliant at it.” When she pinched his side, he yelped and buried his face into her shoulder again. “It’s not cocky if it’s true. For instance, I am fully confident I could get you off within the next five minutes.”

“Is that so?” A peal of girlish giggles escaped her as he rubbed his stubble against her skin. “Well, while I have every confidence that you could do that and more, I have to eat. I’m ravenous; I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

With no preamble, Teddy popped up and straightened his shirt. He was at the Floo in two long steps, and Hermione propped herself up on her elbows and stared curiously at him. 

“What? No sex so you leave?” She tried to infuse a joking edge to her voice, but a part of her felt…  _ disappointed. _

Snorting, Teddy rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get you food. What would you like?”

_ Oh. _ “Really?”

“ _ Yes _ , really. What, you’ve never had someone go and get you food before?” 

The simple question caused her to pause, trying to remember the last time someone had cared for her because they wanted to and not because they were oath-bound and salaried employees. 

“So what’ll it be?” he pressed, interrupting her reverie. 

“I’ll just have a sal—”

“Absolutely not. Never mind.” Teddy waved his hand through the air and grabbed a fistful of Floo powder. “You’ve lost the privilege of deciding if all you’re going to eat are salads. I’ll bring back something delicious, and then I will take you into your bedroom until you forget all about your rubbish day. Okay?” 

Curling her legs up, Hermione couldn’t help but grin—honestly, she couldn’t help but grin every time she was around Teddy. “Alright.” 

Just as was about to step in, he paused and turned back towards the couch, dipping down to catch her lips in a firm but tender kiss. He pulled back, and with a wink and a smirk, he disappeared through the Floo.

  
  
xXx

** _A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Would love to know what you think!_ **

** _I am really hoping you don’t hate Ron. I wanted to keep close to what we know of him in canon, which is reactive. He loves so deeply and hurts deeper still and I think both him and Hermione are struggling to come to terms with the end of their marriage and they are both doing poorly at it lol _ **

** _Anywho! Enough rambling! Thanks to MCal and Ravenslight for all their love and attention on this story. It’s completely unfair they are reduced to a line in my AN’s because without them this wouldn’t exist. Hope you run over and leave them some love on their author pages. They are brilliant!_ **

** _Until next week!_ **


	8. Chapter 8

Over dinner, they talked, which shouldn’t be such a strange phenomenon, but after years of quiet meals, it seemed noteworthy. After the trip, Teddy had been given a few days off, and Hermione nearly melted into gelatinous goo when he said that he offhandedly spent it with his grandmother, helping her around the house. 

Andromeda was always a background character in the lives of Hermione and her friends. She showed up occasionally, making small talk and avoiding any discussion of the family she’d lost or the war that took them. Hermione suspected that it was too painful to be in a group of survivors, and for that, she could not fault her. 

“What’d you do after Hogwarts?” she asked absently, dipping a crisp into the remains of her ketchup. 

“Auror training.” Teddy shrugged, lifting his pint and settling into the crook of the sofa. “Then advanced training across Europe and in the States so I could worm my way to the top, seduce you, and have my wicked way with you whenever I wanted.” 

The sofa rumbled with their shared laughter, and she kicked at him playfully before picking up her own ale. She’d never been much of a beer drinker, perhaps because Ron always drank it all, but it felt right tonight, and the rich, chocolatey taste of the stout on her tongue washed away the bitter taste of the day. 

Teddy shifted, turning towards her. It was such a little thing, barely there but heavy and important. She held all his attention when they were together; she was no longer an afterthought or someone to be endured. 

“What about you?” he asked. “What’d you do after school?”

“Oh. Well—” Brows knitting, Hermione tried to remember what she’d done after school. It was quite a few years back now. “Immediately after the war, I returned for my eighth year. Then I spent the summer in Australia trying to return my parents memories—”

“Did you?” 

Gulping down a long swig of beer, Hermione nodded, her lips curling up at the memory. “Yes. They live in Australia to this day; I visit once a year with the kids, and they usually come once or twice. After that, I went to Paris; I studied Political Law and then returned to England. I was married and pregnant within the year.” 

“Busy girl.” Smirking, Teddy’s free arm laid out on the back of the couch as he stared back at her. Something deliciously mischievous flashed in his eyes, and he hauled himself up to stand. “Bath?”

Brows tugging together, Hermione felt a stab of disappointment. Setting her beer down, she floundered for a way to keep him around a while yet. “We can hang out! I don’t want to kick you out right after din—”

A loud bark of laughter interrupted her, and he leaned down, caging her in as he rested his hands on the back of the couch. “Don’t be silly, Minister.” He brushed his nose against hers. “I’ll be in the bath too.” His lips pressed quickly against the corner of her forming smile. 

Without warning, Teddy reached down and effortlessly tossed her over his shoulder. An unexpected string of giggles issued from her as she kicked her feet and he swatted at her bum. 

Once in the safety of her ensuite, Teddy removed his wand and flicked it at the large clawfoot tub—that regrettably was rarely used—and within moments billows of steam filled the air, fogging the glass, and magically drawing them closer together. 

“I didn’t know you liked baths,” she mused, her hands resting on his hips as his fingers threaded through her curls, slanting her face so he could brush his lips against her jaw. 

“I don’t, not particularly, at least. But I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy a bath if you’re in it.” 

A smile overtook her, and she laughed, her fingers curling around his trim waist and pulling him closer. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, she lifted it up his torso and off his shoulders. 

Her fingers wandered the ridges and peaks of his abdomen, splaying across the smattering of short hair dusting his chiseled pecks and then down the valleys of his stomach. A rush of lust surged inside her, and she arched into him, feeling the ache of her sex clenching as his sure and steady fingers worked on the buttons of her blouse.

Featherlight touches tickled down her arms as he pushed the fabric from her body. She felt frantic for him, a steady, thrumming need rising to the surface, begging to rip the remaining fabric from his body, but he worked at a much slower pace. Like undressing her was part of the foreplay for him, exposing inch by inch of her as his lips wandered from her lips to her shoulders. Finally, after what felt like an excruciating eternity, he pushed her knickers over her bum, and she freed him from the confines of his trousers. 

Pulling back with a smirk, he reached between them. She thought he might finally touch her and give her some relief, but it was quite the opposite; when he gripped the base of his cock and squeezed, her mouth ran dry. 

Smirk widening, he turned for the clawfoot bath, sinking under the bubbles and resting back against the porcelain. “Minister?”

There had been a time, not so long ago, that Hermione had given up on such notions of romance and lust and  _ sex _ . She was confident that it had not been something meant for her; she was a logical person, steady and unwavering—where could one make room for moments like this when you were a person like that?

But as she tied her hair up on the crown of her head, a few rebellious curls springing free, Hermione was suddenly sure she’d been wrong all along. It wasn’t her that wasn’t made for it. It wasn’t even Ron’s doing; they’d been mismatched all along, destined to fail. 

Tip-toeing into the warm water, she turned so that her back rested against the flat planes of his torso, her head leaning back on his shoulder as he turned his face into hers, kissing her temple. 

Could a person combust from sexual frustration? Because if they could, Hermione was at very serious risk of it now. His fingers danced up the ladder of her ribs, skimming the curve under her breast before driting down her belly. 

But he never touched where she so desperately wanted it. She began squirming when his palms rounded around the thick of her inner thigh, and he chuckled behind her. 

“Something funny, Teddy?” she breathed, pressing back against him and keening at the feeling of his erection against her back. 

“Not at all, Minister. Something you wanted?” 

_ Oh. Right. The talking thing. _ “Touch me, Teddy,” she said breathlessly, back arching gently. 

A soft growl in her ear caused a ripple of goosebumps to spread over her bare shoulders as his hands came up roughly on her breasts, kneading them as her own fingers dug into his thighs. 

Turning her face, she found his lips, one hand curling behind him and threading through his hair. Their tongues met softly, different than most of their kisses as his hands drifted down her stomach and curled around her mound. He greedily swallowed the pleasured noises she made when the tip of his fingers found her clit and began a torturously slow rotation. 

Everything in her known universe ground to a halt, even her breathing, as he teased her; one finger skimmed her entrance as she choked out a strangled noise. When he chuckled, she nipped at his lip and extricated herself from his touch, turning in the tub so they were face-to-face and lifting herself up to straddle his lap. 

Fingers skimming his jaw, she tilted his grin up to hers, vanishing it with a hungry kiss as she positioned herself over his cock. It was his turn to groan as she filled herself in one fluid movement; water rocked around them gently sloshing over the edges as he came up to wrap his arms around her. One hand traveled the length of her spine, curling around the base of her neck as the other assisted in gently rocking her against him. 

Her lips left his, trailing down his jaw and marking his throat with a quick bite and then a soothing kiss. Soft, contented noises slipped from their lips as the water slapped against the porcelain and then pooled on the expensive tile below. 

“You’re so perfect, Hermione.” She fucking  _ whimpered. “ _ Gods, I could spend every minute, of every day, inside you.” 

“Teddy…” she moaned, feeling the familiar build-up of a long-awaited release. “ _ More _ .” 

“I want you everywhere; I want to fuck you on your balcony, on your kitchen table, and every surface inbetween. You can bet your last Galleon I’m going to make you come while you’re splayed out over your desk, _ Minister.”  _ His fingers dug into the flesh of her arse as he rocked up into her, and when his lips closed around her nipple, she fell apart in the most delicious way possible. Waves of pleasure coursed through every limb as her jaw fell open and broken breaths echoed around them.

Movement was no longer possible as her orgasm rocked through her, but he didn’t pause, instead thrusting up into her as he grunted his own release. Their shaking ceased, and the water slowed to a gentle lapping around them as he left kisses over her chest and she played with strands of his light pink hair.

Being with Teddy was like finding a buoy in a hurricane; she’d been struggling to tread water— _ to breathe. _ But then he was there, and she felt unreasonably safe. A heavy, painful truth settled on her chest, and her breath caught as his lips found the hollow under her jaw. Despite the reprieve from the storm, they were unsustainable, dangerous; a false sense of security while chaos pressed in around her. 

Eventually, she was going to have to let Teddy go. 

And so, she clung to him tighter, reveling in every stolen moment where they existed together. 

A traitorous tear slipped from the corner of her eye and a broken breath caught Teddy’s attention. 

“Hey,” he cooed, a gentle smile pulling at his lips as he vanished a tear from her cheek. “What’s wrong?” 

_ Everything.  _ “Nothing.” 

xXx

She couldn’t sleep. Even after another bout between the sheets and Teddy curled up softly snoring next to her;  _ she couldn’t sleep.  _

Restlessness settled in her bones and after lying there fighting it for too long, she finally rose. Tying her robe around her, she padded out to the kitchen for a glass of water, and her eyes caught on a stack of mail at the edge of her counter. 

“Oh, shite,” she grumbled. She’d meant to respond to the President about the upcoming summit before the night was over. Sifting through the mail, she found a few howlers which went into their own special pile so she could be accosted at a more decent hour. Under those was the correspondence from President Rhodes, but her eyes caught on a black envelope at the bottom of the stack. Neat gold lettering adorned the front, but there was no return address. 

Curiosity piqued, she set aside the letter from MACUSA and tore open the seal.

Inside were half a dozen magical photos of her, glimpses of her daily life: at dinner, walking to her flat, having a drink with Katie, and fighting with Ron. She dropped them as if they were aflame, each one floating to the marble countertop as she came across the final photo; one where Watson had his grubby hands all over her. 

Grinding her teeth, she stared at the crude red letters scrawled over the photo: CAREFUL, MINISTER.

“Hermione?” Teddy’s voice called from the doorway, pulling his pants up and squinting into the darkness at her. “You okay?”

He was perfectly tousled, his messy teal hair standing up in every direction as he rubbed the back of his neck. She should tell him. Not only because he was the man she was currently sharing a bed with, but because he was also her security. 

Gulping, Hermione shook her head and shoved the photos back in their envelope. “Fine.” She smiled tightly. “Just getting some water; I’ll be right back in.” 

Teddy turned back, and Hermione reached for the nearest drawer, shoving the envelope inside and slamming it shut. 

  
  


**A/N: Sorry for the later update this week! I was traveling this weekend and just arriving home! I’m so sorry that I’m awful at responding to your lovely reviews! I have been trying to be better, because Merlin knows I’m so grateful for everyone, but I am a human failure who falls behind. Please know how much they make my day! And if you want to chat, you can find me on Tumblr under the same pen name. I’m usually more responsible about responses there. **

**Biggest of thanks to my Alphas and Beta, MCal, InDreams and Ravenslight. I ADORE YOU! **

**Be back next week! And thanks for reading :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filthy lemons ahead.

Was it possible to be this bloody exhausted while still brimming with energy? Her body had been delightfully ravaged the night before; she could still feel the tender spots in her hips where his fingers had pressed too far, the sensitive marks she’d glamoured in the mirror that morning. There wasn’t enough tea in England to keep her from wanting to doze off for a moment at her desk; but still, her body bristled with flesh memory, her skin flushing as tangible visions of the night before replayed across her mind. 

And there was the fact that the not-so-little Teddy Lupin was standing outside her door with an arse she wanted to sink her teeth into. Every few minutes he’d turn and peer in at her, sometimes throwing her a sly wink. 

Finally, after zoning out on his bum for an inordinate amount of time, she snapped to. There were responsibilities, after all, things that demanded her atten—

But then, _ Gwen _ saddled up to him, her folio pressed against her chest, and Hermione’s hackles raised. Eyes narrowing at her once-beloved assistant, Hermione wondered how obvious it’d be if she sent a wordless stinging jinx her way. The flirtatious moment was short-lived as Teddy quickly and quietly dismissed her and gestured for her to enter the Minister’s Chambers. 

Merlin, Morgana, and all four founders—she was turning into a jealous little twit of a woman. Wholly unbecoming. 

“Minister.” Gwen beamed, sitting primly in her chair and crossing her ankles. “I have your schedule prepared.” 

Against her volition, Hermione’s gaze lifted to Teddy once more, his lips quirked in a lopsided smile just for her. 

“Right. Go on, Gwen.” 

Over the next painstaking half-hour, Hermione was reminded that, yes, she was indeed getting divorced in a few days and that a summit with all the participants of the International Magical Coalition would be happening Saturday. Bloody brilliant. 

Hermione picked up her gold nibbed eagle-feather quill and hovered it over her parchment. For most of the Ministry, the day was winding down, but she still had several hours of work ahead of her; mostly, that was her own fault for staring at her bodyguard’s arse for the better part of the morning. 

“Was that all you needed for me today, Minister? I had that appointment I needed to get to.” Gwen gently closed her folio and smiled kindly at her boss. Truly, Hermoine didn’t deserve such a wonderful employee, and if she could but keep her eyes _ off _ of her—well, of her Teddy—then things would be back to brilliant in no time. 

“Yes, of course. I’ll be just a while longer; no need for you to stay on.” Dipping the nib in her inkpot, she quickly scrawled out her name on the signature line at the bottom, her attention-catching on the ease of which it flowed from her wrist.

_ Hermione Granger-Weasley. _

The hyphenation had been their compromise. Ron had insisted he be represented—although funny enough, he didn’t want her to be represented the same way—and Hermione had been too exhausted to fight him on it further. The pain upon seeing WEASLEY FOR MINISTER plastered under her picture all across Diagon Alley was still visceral enough to make her wince. All of her achievements, all of her many accolades and awards—they’d been swallowed up when she took her new name. 

Soon, it would be back to just her. Just Hermione Granger. It was a bittersweet kind of sorrow. They’d decided on a divorce so that they wouldn’t waste the rest of their years in an unhappy marriage, but that didn’t necessarily negate a happy life, now did it? 

Teddy was there…_ and wonderful _. But she wasn’t meant to keep him, and while he was doing a wonderful job at staving off the eventual rain, she could feel the pressure of a tumultuous storm pressing down all around her. 

After an hour or two, when the ambient noise of the Ministry had dulled and she’d finished reviewing the grant proposal from the DRCMC about funding the new strand of Wolfsbane—and happily signing off on it—there was a soft rapping of knuckles at her door. 

Tearing her gaze from the thirty-page document, she found her messy-haired friend peeking through her door frame at her. “Got a minute, Minister?”

“Hermione will do, Auror Potter. And for you—” she paused, rising from her seat with a bright smile “—always.”

“Brilliant—pressing business and all that.” He deposited a stack of parchment on her desk and grinned. “Budget proposals.” 

“Lovely,” Hermione deadpanned. “You know, when you used to bring me pressing business it was usually about basilisks and Horcruxes. Your idea of ‘pressing’ has gotten a rather dull in your later years, Potter.” 

“Yeah, well a boring life is a good life. I’m also here to discuss security for the Summit this weekend. I’ll have Teddy on your detail and a team of six Aurors just for precautionary security. We’ll still have patrol teams ready to Portkey in if needed.” 

“I think it’ll be a pretty boring affair, Harry. A bunch of stuffy politicians arguing about whose army is bigger then a fancy photo op at the end. Don’t stress security… “ she trailed off as she pried open the first page of the proposal. 

With a disgruntled sound of protest, Harry folded his long arms over his chest and relaxed back in his chair. “No offense, Minister, but that’s why I’m the Auror and you’re the stuffy politician. Someone’s gotta be looking out for you. We don’t want a repeat of Belgium—”

“Oh, Merlin, Harry! It was one time, and you’ve nearly tripled my security since then.” 

“Right, well if anything comes up or changes, you let me know right away, yeah?” 

She flinched slightly, remembering the photos still stuffed in her kitchen drawer. There was no good reason she _ shouldn’t _ tell Harry, honestly. Except she was already living under the thumb of the Auror Department, watched night and day; this revelation would only heighten Harry’s obscene preoccupation with her safety. So, for now, she’d keep Watson and his ridiculous little threat to herself. With a tight smile, she acquiesced. “Of course.” 

“I’m off for the night,” he said, clapping his hands on the tops of his thighs. “Mind if I use your Floo?”

She said nothing, waving her fingers dismissively through the air as she pretended to read his messy scrawl. 

“Come by for dinner this weekend, yeah? I brought it up to Teddy too—”

“_ Teddy! _” She balked, forced innocence painting over her features. 

Pulling a face, Harry reached for the Floo powered and stepped in. “Uh, yeah.” He laughed. “My godson? The only kid who answers my damn owls anymore.” 

Her guilt quieted, and she grinned at her friend standing in her grate. “Well, he is on your payroll.” 

“Well, good Godric, I’ll hire them all then. Nepotism be damned.” He winked. 

Night, Minister.” 

“Goodnight, Auror Potter.” And he was gone, disappearing in a giant swell of vibrant green flames, and she was left with guilt twisting in her belly and a brand new stack of work to tend to.

Moments later, the door to her office clicked shut and she jumped at the quiet sound of the latch. Perhaps a time would come when the sight of Teddy’s darkened gaze locked on her didn’t send a thrill through her, but that time wasn’t today. 

“Teddy,” she mumbled, a single brow arching high as she ignored the rioting between her legs. Surely, he wouldn’t…

“Minister.” He crossed the room, fussing with the buttons on his jacket and shrugging from its confines as he approached her desk. 

“Did you need something?” Any air of superiority she’d been feigning was quickly waning, her voice trembling as she returned her attention to her work. 

The silence that followed the simple question was too tight, like if she plucked it, the echo would reverberate for an hour. Without lifting her gaze, she felt him approach, the heat of his body rippling in the air as he stood next to her desk. 

From the corner of her vision, she could see him release the buttons on his cuffs, rolling the sleeves until they were halfway up his arm and _ still _ he didn’t speak. 

Her quill shook, her wrist quivering as she listened to his steady breaths falling down around her. 

“I can’t help but think you wore that for me.” With nimble fingers, he popped the top button of her blouse open, and then the next. It was almost obscene the way her chest heaved up and down, desperate for his touch. 

“Wore what?” Her voice was breathy, fingers splayed out on the desk in front of her. Sliding his finger along her exposed clavicle, his hand slipped under the sheer material of her blouse, palming her breast roughly. With a sharp inhale, she dropped her quill, her fingers curling into fists and prayed for her breaths to steady. 

“That smart little skirt.” His hand slid inside her bra, mercilessly rubbing at her already pebbled nipples. “Did you want me to do this, Minister?” An ache spread through her sex, and she pressed her thighs together just for a semblance of relief. “Did you want me to spread you out over this desk and fuck you?”

A gasp tore from her lungs when he pinched her nipple between two fingers and twisted. “_ T-Teddy _!”

_ “ _I think you did.” 

Rotating her chair, she found herself staring down the massive bulge in his trousers; her mouth ran dry. Peeking up at him, she felt her knickers dampen and his hand left her shirt, pushing a few wild curls from her face. She tried her best to ignore the trembling in her fingers as she yanked his belt open, never taking her eyes off him. 

With a few well-practiced moves, his cock was freed. Her breath caught painfully. It’d been— well, safe to say it’d been quite a while since she’d seen one up close in this capacity. Gripping his own length, he squeezed the base hard once and then pumped himself a few slow times, waiting for her to decide. 

Well, Hermione Granger wasn’t one to back down, and in a true show of her intent, she dropped to her knees, ankles crossing behind her. 

“_ Fuck _,” he groaned as her lips closed around him for the first time. Pressing the flat of her tongue on the underside of his head, she reveled in the way his thighs shook, one hand burying in her curls. She inched forward, testing her limits again and pausing only when he was brushing the back of her throat. 

She withdrew, just to slide her lips around him again… and again… _ and again _. Shoving one hand under his shirt, she traced the chiseled lines of his stomach, noticing the way he quivered under her touch as she buried his cock in her mouth.

Focusing her attention on opening the back of her throat, she pushed him deeper, lean fingers curling around the dip in his hips as tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. “Fucking hell, Hermione. You’re so perfect. You take my cock so well, love. I’m gonna move—tell me if it’s too much.” 

Her eyes flew open, locking on his as she silently agreed. The hand on his torso slid to the base of his cock, and she formed a tight fist around it as his fingers tightened in her curls and he began rocking his hips, fucking her mouth with long slow thrusts. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he managed, his voice strained. Panic coursed under her skin, rising up her throat and nearly choking her.

The angry ache between her thighs was begging for relief; no amount of pressing them together would make it better, and with her lips still wrapped around him, she used her hands to ruck her skirt up. Slipping her fingers through her drenched sex, she began slowly rubbing her clit, picking up in pace and pressure, and he continued to push between her lips. 

“Gods, that’s so fucking hot. Fuck, you feel so fucking good. You’re doing so well—” The praise made her keen, settled her nerves until she was bobbing up and down in time with his thrusts, hollowing her cheeks until his low grunts were echoing around the room. “I”m going to come, Minister. If you don’t want it down your throat, I’d pull off now.” 

To answer him, she pushed farther, gagging just slightly. A low, strangled chuckle vibrated from his chest before snapping his hips into her mouth, emptying down her throat as she closed her eyes and focused on nothing except for the feeling of him pulsing under her touch. With a few more flicks of her own digits, she was cresting, tensing as her orgasm flooded her body and she gently rocked onto her own hand. 

When he was spent, he stilled, hand tangled in her curls as he gently guided her off his cock. With a slow swallow, she looked up at him again, pulling her shameful fingers from between her thighs and rising to stand. A fierce blush stained her cheeks, and she wanted to hide, wanted to succumb to the guilt coursing through her—but she didn’t have time. His fingers caught her wrist, the one that’d been sliding inside her sex just moments before and pushed them between his lips. 

His long lashes fluttered closed, cheeks hollowing as he sucked the remains of her orgasm from her long, lean fingers. A wanton little moan pushed past her lips, and his eyes flew open, pupils blown and nearly black. Pulling her fingers out, he moved to catch her lips in a kiss, and in a panic, she stepped back.

“What? Did I do something?” Genuine worry pinched his handsome features, and she quickly shook her head. 

“No. It’s just— well I just had you in my mouth. I don’t want you to have to…” 

A loud, disbelieving snort accompanied his rolling eyes, and he crushed her into him, hands sliding down her body and shoving her skirt higher around her hips. His hands filled with the thick flesh of her bum, mouth hovering a breath over hers, and she couldn’t _ breathe _. 

“Any man that wouldn’t kiss you after what you just did isn’t a fucking a man.” His mouth crashed into hers, all tongue and teeth, and she could feel his cock stiffen against her belly. 

He moved quickly—purposefully—freeing the last of her buttons and pulling her shirt open so that her chest was exposed. Ripping the cups of her bra down, he broke their kiss just long enough to suck her hard nipple between his lips, the other being dutifully tended to by his teasing fingers. 

“I’m gonna fuck you, Hermione,” he said simply, teeth grazing her nipple before coming up tall. “Nothing like what we’ve done before. I’m going to _ fuck _ you on your desk. Okay?” 

Jaw gaping, Hermione considered it; she nodded once, and before she thought more of it, she was flipped around, her palms slamming against Harry Potter’s well-crafted budget for the Auror Department as Teddy lined himself up behind her. 

With a snap of his hips, he filled her, burying himself to the hilt as she cried out and fell over her desk. “Grab the edge of this fucking desk,” he growled, and lost to the sensation of him growing thicker and _ thicker _ inside her, she obliged, curling her fingers around the wood. “Good girl.” 

A low, humiliating moan left her, and with a final low chuckle, he began to move… no, he began to _ fuck. _ Slamming into her again and again, each one heralding a pleasured cry from her and a low grunt from him.

One hand stayed strong on the juncture of her hip, holding her steady and still. The other came down in a hard slap on her arse. Her back arched at the sting, and then his fingers were tangling in her curls, gently yanking her back so that her spine bent, her bum lifting. “That’s a good girl. You want more?” 

She pleaded in agreement—_ begged, _

He fucked her until she was utterly and completely lost to him, the hard edge of her expensive desk biting into her hips. With a sudden jerk, he’d withdrawn from her, flipping her hard and fast so her back was pressed against her desk and her knees were hitched over his waist. 

He didn’t waste a minute, driving into her with relentless force as she cried out again and _ again. _ The rough pad of his thumb found her clit and with a few deft circles brought her careening over the edge again, her limbs trembling as another orgasm wracked through her system; she swore her vision blackened for a beat as he gave a few final thrusts into her, stilling as he found his second orgasm as well. 

When the moment had calmed, the absence of their pleasured noises exacerbating the quiet, he fell over her. His cock was still buried deep inside her as he pressed kiss after kiss to her cheeks and neck, finally finding her lips and drinking her in, soothing the swollen flesh of her lips as he reaffirmed how utterly perfect she was. 

“You know, I’ve never had sex on a desk before,” she mused, dragging her fingernails up his shirt. He pulled back, staring at her with a wicked smirk, loose pink fringe falling over his eyes. 

“Me either, but I will admit to thinking about it every day since Harry brought me in here to meet you.” At that, he pushed his stubbled jaw between the crook of her neck until she was giggling and wrapping around him. He ceased, lifting up so that his palms were resting on the desk on either side of her face. “Can I cook you dinner?”

xXx

For being a young bachelor only a few years outside of Hogwarts, Teddy Lupin was an absolutely wonderful cook. The experience was only heightened by the fact that she’d snuck behind him and tugged his t-shirt over his head, leaving him in just trousers and a tea towel draped over his thick shoulder. 

In return, he’d scooped her up and deposited her quickly on the counter, tickling her sides until she was giggling like a young teenager in love. 

_ In love. _

Surely, she couldn’t be. What a ridiculous—nay, _ preposterous _—idea that she fall for her twenty-one-year-old bodyguard. This was just as Katie had suggested: quick, casual fun. Harmless. 

But now, sitting over a candlelight dinner in her flat, reveling in a bottle of her best wine—a bottle she’d saved for a special occasion and finally decided to fuck it all and drink it anyway—devouring a perfectly prepared filet, she wondered if maybe somewhere along the way she hadn’t crossed_ that _ line. Well, there’d been plenty of lines crossed, too many to count, really. But _ that _ one, the feelings one, should be avoided. 

After polishing off his plate, he leaned back, bringing his wine glass up to his lips and staring back at her with a crinkle to his hazel eyes. 

“This was delicious, Teddy. Where’d you learn to cook?” Shoving the last bite of steak she could manage between her lips, she then cradled her goblet to her chest and mimicked his relaxed posture. 

“Andromeda. As I started getting a little older, she didn’t really know what to do with me. I never really acted like most other kids—” He shifted in his seat, his features pulling slightly. “And Andromeda was never really like most grandmothers. She tried her best and did wonderfully; truly, I couldn’t ask for a better stand-in mum. But there was a lack of the normal family life. So when I would come home and didn’t want to mess around with other kids my age, I joined her in the kitchen. Over the summers, we’d work our way through cookbooks.” 

He spoke so offhandedly about his lot in life, about being without his parents and never properly enjoying his childhood. It was disarming, and she felt the strangest tugging deep in the caverns of her chest. Without thought, her hand reached out to where his laid against his thigh, curling her fingers around his and squeezing gently. 

“I don’t know if you like talking about them or hearing about them, but I did know your parents fairly well.” She paused, watching him wince at the mention of them. She’d be quick then. “They loved you very much. And I do think they’d be so proud of you.” 

His lips flickered in a smirk, and he flipped his hand over to squeeze her fingers in return. “Thanks, love.” There was a moment of fraught silence before he dragged in a hard breath through his nose. When his gaze returned to hers, she swore it was a bit misty. “Do you cook?”

Leaning forward, she pressed her lips softly against his, quick—habitual—like it was nothing at all. “I _ do _cook,” she grinned against his lips. “Just not very well.” 

Laughter rumbled through their mouths, and he quickly tugged her into his lap. “That’s surprising. I didn’t think there was anything you didn’t do well.” 

“I was never really home in time to cook. I can order some mean take away, and I know how to roast a decent chicken and vegetables, but anything far past that and sandwiches I’m afraid was not in my wheelhouse.” 

“Did Ron cook, then?” 

The simple question startled her, her head cocking quickly back as she shot up in her chair. “Oh, erm—sometimes. I mean, mostly, yeah.” 

It felt strange having Ron exist in the space that she and Teddy had created. Up until now, he had been decidedly outside of their bubble, and with that simple question, it felt as though a major shift had happened. After all, casual lovers didn’t talk about things like soon-to-be ex-husbands and his tasks around the house. But if they weren’t casual lovers… then Hermione wasn’t quite sure what they were. 

“I’m sorry, maybe that was intrusive,” he mumbled, setting down his wine glass and leaning towards her. 

She tried for a smile, failing as it wilted into a small forlorn frown.“No, no. It’s not you, just still finding it odd having another man around when I only had the one for so long. Sometimes it still settles a little weird in the air.” 

Without another word, he leaned forward, hands curling behind her neck and kissing her gently. How on earth this man could manage to fuck her so savagely on her desk and then be cooking dinner and kissing her like _ this _ was lost on her. He was an enigma. 

They began to clear the dishes by hand, stacking them in the sink and then setting a charm on them. Hermione sat herself up on the counter, one leg tucked under her as he pulled another bottle of wine down from the rack. 

“Cabernet Sauvignon, alright?” he asked, idly pulling open drawers in search of a wine key. 

“Quite.” His fingers found the knob on the drawer to the far left and as he wrenched it open, she remembered the contents buried in there and cried out, hands flying and wine sloshing. 

It was too late. 

The photos were there, face-up in all of her shame. The haphazard red words scribbled over the top of one. _ CAREFUL, MINISTER. _

Sucking in a harsh breath, Hermione’s eyes pressed shut, ready for the inevitable. Because if Teddy Lupin was anything like his godfather—which she was quite sure he was—then she was in for a lashing. 

“The fuck are these, Hermione?” His voice cut through the silence, piercing her over-inflated lungs until her air left her in a huff. “Did you know they were in there?”

_ “ _Teddy, please don’t overreact—”

“_ Overreact? _ Blimey, Hermione… someone is bloody following you and you don’t think to tell me? Even if you didn’t feel like you should tell the man who’s in your bed every damn night, you sure as hell should have told your interim head of security!” His voice rose, inching up toward a decibel where Hermione was about to have to put her foot down as either Minister for Magic or Hermione-fucking-Granger. 

“It’s just Watson.” Waving a dismissive hand through the air, she hopped off the counter and quickly retrieved her wand. She ignored his obvious ire as she opened the wine herself, charming the cork from its neck and pouring herself a too-large glass. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of me because of the IMC, and I won’t stoop to his level…”

“_ Stoop to his level? _ Fuck, Hermione—” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The man is having you tailed and you don’t want to stoop to his level? What the hell does that even mean? It’s about your safety, and we can’t just take risks where your safety is concerned.”

“My safety is not compromised by some grimy politician who wants to line his own pockets. I’m a fairly competent witch, I’ll have you know.” 

His hair shifted, seeping from teal to the darkest colour she could remember, a hue darker than the one he wore for work.“Yes, I’ll agree with you there. But you’ve got a bullseye on your back, and your head is stuck in budget proposals all day long, so you’re not able to fully assess the situation.” 

Snatching up her wine with an audible scoff, she marched past him and into the sitting room only to set her glass back down and rear on him. “I’m not having a discussion with my— my— _ bodyguard _about this! I’ve dealt with arseholes like him my whole life; I can deal with him too.”

The silence that followed her outburst was heavy, settling on her chest until she could hardly breathe. His lovely hazel eyes hardened, turning a deep brown as he stared back at her. 

Running a slow tongue across his perfect teeth, he made a loud clucking noise. “Bodyguard? That’s all I am to you?” 

It wasn’t rhetorical. He waited. Waited while Hermione grappled with the weight of the question, testing it on her tongue and right as she was about to say _ of course not _, his features steeled and he gathered the photographs in a neat stack. 

“Understood, _ Minister. _”

“Teddy!” she called out, sweeping her hair back with a groan. “You know that’s not what I—” 

With a fistful of Floo powder, he stomped into her grate, disappearing just as he growled his destination. “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.” 

**A/N: ** ** _*singing merrily to herself* _ ** **Angsty and Smutty and kiiiinda happy, these are a few of my favorite thingssss. **

**Hope if you’re celebrating Christmas this week that you are surrounded by love, light, family and fic updates. If you are not, I hope your week is still full of all those things. **

**As always, thanks to my alpha’s, MCal and In Dreams and my beta, Ravenslight! You guys are so wonderful!! **

**If you want to chat, come find me on Tumblr! **

**Happy Hols—LK. **


	10. Chapter 10

**If triggered by domestic disputes, proceed with caution. I promise nothing is graphic or intentional and if you scroll to the end A/N, I can give you more information there! **

xXx

She waited quite a while, which was surprising. Teddy had left for Grimmauld, which meant Harry knew. And if Harry knew, then she’d half expected him to come charging into the grate not but a minute later. 

But each tick of the clock brought it closer to half an hour and then an hour… She’d practiced what she’d say to Harry. That’d be handled easily enough; sure he’d have a fit, but that wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. 

But as the minutes stretched on, she realized she couldn’t avoid the problem at hand much longer. Securing her bottle under her arm, she marched into her Floo and disappeared through the grate. 

“ _ Katie _ !” she shouted, as she stood locked behind the other side of the Floo, glowering at the sight of it closed in her face. “Katie Bell!” 

After another moment of no response, she began rattling the metal bars until, finally, Katie appeared, shrugging on a robe and looking as though she’d been thoroughly shagged. 

“Hermione?” her friend called, squinting into the darkness. 

“Yes, of course, it’s Hermione! Let me in. What on earth are you doing with a locked grate!” As Katie waved her wand, the steel bars snapped away and Hermoine stepped out, shaking soot from her clothes and curls and blowing it off the top of her wine bottle. 

With a deviant smile, Katie reached for the bottle of wine and winked. “I’m  _ entertaining. _ ” 

“Oh—” Hermione tried to keep the pain of rejection from seeping into her voice. “I’ll go.” 

“Oh, shut it. Sit down and talk. No man comes before you, and even if I  _ wanted _ him to, it seems I’m having a bit of a go at the older gents these days; old bloke needs his rest.” Katie wagged her eyebrows and curled up on the end of the sofa, patting the cushion nearest her with an encouraging smile.”

“I might have just fucked things up with Teddy.” Hermione huffed, falling into the cushion and stealing her wine back. 

“I didn’t realize there was something for you to fuck up.” Her friend’s forehead pinched as they treaded unfamiliar territory. “I thought you were just shagging him.” 

Tipping the bottle to her lips, Hermione felt tears form at the corner of her eyes. “Yeah, that was the intent. But he’s— well, he’s…” Words failed her spectacularly as her ribcage tightened on her lungs, making it near impossible to regain a proper breath. 

“Okay,” Katie said with sudden seriousness. “Let’s start with that wine is too good to be drinking from the bottle. Merlin, did you even decant it, Granger?” Katie clucked her tongue and flicked her wand towards the kitchen, summoning two large wine glasses and a crystal decanter. “Now, start from the beginning.” 

  
  


xXx

Katie was nearly doubled over in laughter, unaware or uncaring about the deep-set scowl gracing Hermione’s features. “Are you quite done, Kate? It’s really not funny!”

“Oh, _ it really is.” _ Wiping happy tears from her cheeks, Katie settled back in the crook of the sofa and fussed with her robe. “You fell for Harry Potter’s godson.” 

“No, I did not!”

“Oh, bullshite. You wouldn’t be here half-drunk and weeping if you weren’t caught up over some bloke. Don’t do me the disservice, Minister. But now you’ve got to figure out what in the hell you’re going to do, because you’ve got to be at the Solicitor in about nine hours, and if I know do-gooder Potter as well as I think I do, he’s about to rip you a new arsehole.” 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed into slits as she finished the last of her wine. “Why on earth did I think coming here would be helpful?”

“No idea, doll. But I love you, and I’m sorry. Can I take you for drinks tomorrow night? Celebrate you being kind-of-sort-of single?” 

Heaving a long, drawn-out sigh, Hermione relented, waving her friend off as she rose to stand. But something caught the corner of her eye, and she whirled around, fumbling for her wand. Turns out, she didn’t need a wand so much as she needed a hard pinch to make sure she wasn’t fucking dreaming. 

There, shirtless, with long platinum hair hanging loose around his shoulders and an inky black tattoo marring his porcelain forearms, was Lucius Malfoy. With a soft  _ pop, _ Hermione’s jaw fell open, her eyes nearing an ungodly size as they bulged from the sockets. 

“Katie,” she hissed from the corner of her mouth. “Lucius Malfoy is half-naked in your apartment.” 

“Astute as ever, Miss Granger.” Lucius’ long drawl was still enough to chill her blood some twenty-five years later and when his silver gaze flickered to his companion’s, Hermione took a strange moment to stare at his bare torso. The man was fit for sixty-something. “Come now, little dove. Back to bed with you.” 

With a girlish giggle, Katie peeled herself from the couch and sauntered towards Lucius’ waiting arms. “Oh, wash that look off your face, Hermione. We’ve all invited strange ones into our bed, and Lucius here has been divorced for over ten years.” Wiggling her perfect brows, Katie waved her friend off and disappeared into her bedroom. 

Still profoundly bewildered, Hermione stepped into the grate, sweeping back into her flat where she didn’t have to be a bloody seer to know what she was walking into. 

Sitting in her favorite armchair, wand in hand and a stern expression etched into his brow, was her best friend and head Auror, Harry Potter. Behind him were two more Aurors and Teddy, eyes black and hair almost as dark. 

“Boys,” she drawled, walking herself to her bar and pouring a stiff drink she probably didn’t need. 

“Really, Hermione?” Harry snorted, incredulity thick in his voice and painted over his features. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been?” 

“Probably not very, considering you knew I was sitting on Katie’s couch. I haven’t forgotten that little tracking spell you put on me after the incident Belgium—”

“What happened in Belgium?” Teddy interjected, his eyes flashing to a light blue before he blinked hard and forced them back to hazel. 

“Minister Granger was quite nearly abducted when she left her hotel room because— what was the reason, Hermione?” Harry’s brows lifted high on his forehead, his face tilted towards hers in the most condescending way possible, especially considering the dolt very well knew her reasoning. 

Her jaw snapped shut, and she narrowed her eyes at her friend. “I couldn’t sleep, Harry, if I remember correctly. Needed some fresh air.” 

“Right, and you were almost kidnapped not a block away.” 

“Yes,  _ almost _ , because as stated many times, I’m not a twit who doesn’t know the right end of her wand, alright? Some even deem to call me bright, which is how I knew that  _ you _ knew right where I was and that I was safe. Save me from this charade that you guys actually had the Aurors out there searching for me.” 

“That’s not the point, Hermione! Someone is following you. Do you want to end up dead?” Harry’s voice cracked, and she could feel it fissure inside her chest; he tossed the stack of photographs on the table between them. “These pictures? They’re not a joke. MACUSA has been notified; I’m leaving tomorrow to see to the investigation myself.” 

“Harry! Don’t be—”

“Absolutely not, Hermione! Teddy is in charge while I’m gone, and you  _ will not _ fight him on any security matter that he deems necessary. Do you understand?” Teddy’s thick arms crossed tight over his chest, his square jaw clenching, and she couldn’t help the flinch in her muscles as she realized just how pissed he was. “We’ve reinforced your wards, you’re safe here. You— _ are you listening? _ —You. Are. Not. To. Leave. Without. Security.” 

Her lip curled as he enunciated every word as if she was incapable of understanding them. “Loud and clear, Auror Potter, and I’ll thank you to watch your tone when speaking to the fucking Minister for Magic.” 

They’d always be like this, butting heads over who held the most perceived authority when they both knew that neither one of them did. Behind her, her Floo roared to life, and she jumped at the sudden rush of warmth at her back. 

Ron stormed in, eyes wild and hair all a mess. “Where is she?” Distantly, she remembered that tone of voice. He’d had it once when they visited a Muggle Zoo in London; Rosie had slipped through a crowd of people when Hermione had taken her eyes off her for just a moment—just long enough. Ron had been beside himself, and he sounded much the same now. 

Her breath left her in a sharp huff, and her face whipped to Harry and then to Teddy, whose eyes were now tight on her ex-husband. “You called Ron?” she cried out in disbelief.

“What? Of course not,” Harry exclaimed, turning towards the two sheepish looking Aurors behind him. “Did you call him?”

Both men poked and prodded at each other, trying to get their partner to fess up. 

“ _ Someone fucking speak!” _ Harry bellowed, hands gesticulating wildly. 

“Well, sir, it’s— it’s protocol, isn’t it? Missing persons, we call next of kin. That’s Mr. Weasley…”

Harry ran an agitated hand through his hair. “She wasn’t bloody missing!” 

“ _ AHA _ ! I knew it, Harry Potter! You are such a—” Hermione stopped her accusation, falling mute as Ron fell to his knees beside her and began fussing over her, searching her for signs of distress and hand closing tightly around hers. “Ronald, what on earth are you doing?”

“What? I’m not allowed to be concerned if the mother of my kids is alright? Those two idiots back there said you were stalked and had gone missing.” He jerked his head to the two red-faced Aurors in the back of her flat, both staring at the ceiling as every other set of eyes bored into them. 

“I’m fine, Ronald. Just a big fuss about nothing.” 

“Well,” Harry huffed, turning back towards them, “It’s not  _ nothing _ ; it just didn’t exactly warrant a call to her ex-husband.” 

Ron scoffed, rising to his feet with his hand resting on the back of Hermione’s chair. “I’m still her husband a few hours yet, and I would like to know if she’s nearly been fucking kidnapped again. Maybe you could keep a better eye on her, Head Auror Pot—”

“Watch yourself before you finish that fucking sentence, Ron. We don’t want to get into a conversation about who’s failed Hermione tonight, not when you’re still waiting for that sober-up to kick in, mate. So I’ll thank you to stop it right there.”

A shiver worked its way down her spine, and Hermione again sought out Teddy, his gaze locked hard on Ron. She could feel the tension rippling through the air, like his magic was trying to push Ron back through the Floo. 

“We’ll be out, Hermione. This isn’t over though; I expect a full briefing on these photos tomorrow, and you  _ listen _ to Teddy, alright? I didn’t pick him because he’s my godson; he’s the best. He’ll keep you safe. Do you need me to—” Harry jerked his chin towards Ron, who glared back at him. 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed, and she shook her head, waving him off. “I’ve managed him this long; what’s a few more minutes?” 

Harry paused, considering it, and then whistled for his Aurors, disappearing through the Floo. But Teddy remained, and the thick strain in the room was suffocating. 

Eventually, Ron turned wild-eyed to Teddy, raising his palms indignantly in his direction. “Ted, can I get a moment with my wife?” 

“ _ Ron _ — _ ”  _ Her fingers came up, stabbing into her temples in a vain attempt to ward off an imminent headache. 

Teddy cracked his neck and shifted his stance. “You’re going to have to stop calling her that soon enough.” 

Hermione sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth, her heart plummeting like a rock into her belly as every muscle in her body froze. 

“ _ What’d you say _ ?” Ron hissed, taking a step away from her even as her hand reached out to wrap around his wrist. He yanked it from her grip as he scrutinized Teddy. “I think you ought to go, Ted. I need to talk to  _ my wife _ .”

“Ron, you’re being combative for no reason. Just sit down.” 

“Mister Weasley, I’m the head of Minister Granger’s security, and I’m uncomfortable with how this situation is playing out. I need you to leave.  _ Now. _ ” 

A dry laugh slipped past Ron’s lips, and he turned back to Hermione, jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “Mate, I’m not gonna tell you again to stand down and let me speak to—” 

With a hard flick of his wrist, Teddy summoned his wand to his grasp, cheeks flushing a light pink. Everyone froze—everyone but Teddy. 

“This is getting out of hand. You may now  _ both _ leave. Teddy, as Harry said my flat has been warded, and Ron, I’ll see you in the morning.” Hermione took a long step around Ron, moving for her bedroom, but Ron’s arm shot out to wrap around her elbow. 

It was gentle, nothing to be alarmed out; it was the way he’d caught her attention a thousand times when she was in a tiff and wanted to slip away. But Teddy didn’t know that. A warning spark sizzled on the tip of his wand as he lifted it, the tip landing in the hollow of Ron’s throat. 

Hermione gasped, rearing on Teddy with a gaping jaw. “Teddy Lupin, drop your wand this instant.” He didn’t so much as flinch, his eyes hardening as Ron’s nostrils flared. “I’m speaking not only as your boss but the Minister for Magic— _ drop your wand. _ ” 

After a long moment,  _ too long _ , his wand fell to his side, his chest still heaving, and for the briefest flicker, he shot a panicked look shot to Hermione. 

“If I didn’t know any better, Teddy, I’d think you were fucking my wife.” Ron’s voice was glacial, chilling her to the bone as she felt her knees buckle. 

“Ronald, let go. You’re still fucking drunk, and this entire thing is getting preposterous.” His fingers loosened, falling limp at his sides, but his eyes never left Teddy’s—and Teddy’s never left his.

Silence pulsed through the air, and as if in slow, painful, motion, she watched realisation drip over Ron’s features, his pale skin turning grey as he blinked the truth to the front of his mind. When Ron whipped around to face her, Hermione felt her chest shatter, a broken breath slipping past her lips. 

“You’re fucking our—  _ our nephew?” _ He was venomous. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ronald. You’re acting belligerent,” she snapped, her cheeks burning. “He’s not our nephew—”

“ _ You’re actually fucking him? _ ” Ron cried out, tears welling in his eyes as his hands buried in his unruly hair. “The fuck are you thinking Hermione? He’s a fucking  _ kid! _ He’s Victoire’s ex for crying out loud— did you think about that? You throw our marriage away from some fucking child with a six-pack? Oh, fuck. I can’t believe you!”

“It’s not—  _ it’s not like that _ !” Tears slipped freely over her cheeks, and it was her turn to reach for him. 

Ron collapsed in her chair, burying his face in his palms as loud, incredulous noises filled the air. “Fucking hell! How long?”

“Wh-what?” 

But when his icy blue gaze lifted, it wasn’t on Hermione; it was locked on Teddy. “How long have you been sleeping with my wife?”

“She’s not your wife. Hasn’t been for some time as far as I understand it.” Teddy’s voice took on a cocky undertone she’d never heard before, and she balked at him. 

Sucking his tongue between his teeth, Ron pushed up off his thighs and took a few measured steps. “She’s my wife. Has been for twenty years, and whether we sign those papers tomorrow or not, I assure you I will always be in her life. You? You’re a fuck-boy. Someone she’s using to get over  _ our _ twenty-year marriage. You’ll be forgotten with next week’s trash, kid.” 

Pressing a hard shove to Teddy’s chest, Ron turned on his heel for the Floo. Terror inched up her spine, desperate to know if he was going to tell someone— _ tell the kids _ —ruin her life. She reached for him, hands closing around his bicep and tugging him back. 

But he was pissed, in that way that only really Ronald Weasley could be pissed, and jerked away from her. And she was  _ her _ , desperate not to let go until she  _ knew, _ and she clutched harder. “Ron—” she pleaded, a sob chasing his name past her lips.

“Let me go! I can’t look at you!” he shouted, ripping his arm from her grasp, causing her toe to catch on the corner of her favorite chair, and she stumbled to the ground. Groaning quietly, Ron’s shoulders sagged, and he reached for her. 

Teddy was too fast, clipping him hard in the jaw and sending Ron tumbling towards the ground next to Hermione. 

“ _ Teddy! _ ” 

The glowing tip of his wand was pointed at Ron’s bleeding mouth; horror twisted her features at the situation playing out and she couldn’t think far enough to string words together. 

“Mister Weasley, because of your personal relationship with the Minister I will allow you to leave right now and return to your home. If that is unreasonable for you, I have the full authority of the DMLE and the Auror Department to place you under arrest for domestic violence and treason against the Minister for Magic.” 

Ron fell back on the floor, wiping the blood from his lips and laughing mirthlessly at the ceiling. “I’ll see you at the solicitor in the morning, Hermione. Then we’ll be done for good.” There was a shuffle, him rolling to his feet and then the roar of flames as he disappeared in the Floo. 

Her eyes closed, desperate to make meaning of what had just happened in the last few hours. Maybe this was actually her lot in life, to lay here, crushed under the weight of her bad decisions until someone finally took the decisions away from her altogether. 

When her eyes opened, Teddy was staring down at her. His hair was back to chestnut, his hazel eyes fringed with worry as he extended his palm to her. She didn’t accept it, instead pulling herself up to stand and pushing past him. 

“I’m sure you know how to see yourself out, Teddy. Goodnight.” The slam of her bedroom door, followed by another roar of her Floo, haunted her until sleep found her, still fully dressed, tears coating her cheeks. 

  
  
  


**A/N: **

**TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter includes a verbal fight between Hermione and Ron. There is a lot of shouting and when he tries to leave, she trips trying to go after him and falls to the floor. **

**Thank you so much for reading!! I’m going to try move the update schedule up a little bit, but I won’t know which days, I’m sorry! **

**I know I’m absolute trash at responding to reviews and it’s only because I am oh so lucky to have so many of you take the time to review. If I only have an hour a day to focus on fandom, I usually try to channel that into writing, so reviews are constantly falling to the wayside. Please please please know that I read and grin at each and every one. **

**Usually, if you have a question, I try to respond but if you want to chat, find me on tumblr under the same pen name! That’s a bit more manageable for me :) **

**As always waves of thanks to In Dreams, MCal, and Ravenslight for their eyes, hearts, and love on these chapters. I couldn’t do it without you!**


	11. Chapter 11

Twenty years, two kids, two homes, endless odds and ends, and a Gringotts account. So much of her life squeezed onto a roll of parchment, tidy scrawl in expensive ink dividing everything down the middle.

The smooth, polished wood of the solicitor’s table was cold under her splayed fingers, her eyes glazing over and misting as she stared at the divorce agreement. 

_ Divorce. _

How long would it be before the word didn’t taste so bitter on her tongue? 

Ron couldn’t look at her, blue eyes rimmed with unshed tears staring down at his copy of the agreement, lips folded into a hard line. But she looked at him, studying the quivering of his jaw and the hard fists he’d drawn his hands into. She’d loved him once—loved him so fiercely that nothing had made sense without him. 

Now, nothing about  _ them _ made sense at all. 

The low, drawl of the solicitor shook her from her reverie, and she blinked away from her soon-to-be ex-husband and to the round man at the head of the table. “So, if both agreements are to your exact specifications, you’ll just sign on your respective parchments. They’ll magically seal and transfer to the other. Minister Granger?” 

The simple use of her maiden name, naked without the hyphenation, startled her, and she stared at the black quill being extended to her. Clearing her throat, she smiled weakly and dipped the nib into a pot of ink, hovering the tip over her parchment for a moment. 

Her gaze flicked up to Ron’s, his eyes locked on where her parchment sat. There was no romantic love between them, but still, it felt like a death and she was the one signing the death certificate. 

With a slow, diligent scrawl, a harsh line through the ‘H’, and swirling loop over the ‘O’, her marriage was over. Holding out the quill to Ron, they locked gazes for the first time. He was hidden behind a mask, the one he wore so well, and with a steeled jaw, he rushed through his signature. 

Both parchments glowed, shining in a bright luminescent gold as Ron’s signature appeared under her own. 

“Well, that’s it! You two are officially divorced! New property details will arrive by owl within the fortnight, and you can expect…” 

Hermione stopped listening, unable to tear her eyes from the parchment. 

“Are you okay?” Ron asked, his voice low and worried. 

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, just a bit weird. But it’s for the best…  _ it’s for the best,”  _ she repeated for her own benefit. After another moment, she shoved away from the table and was rushing from the room, distantly aware of the Ron’s heavy footfalls close behind. Long fingers wrapped around her elbow, just as they had the previous night and countless times before, but he said nothing, just tucked her in his arms. 

The simple gesture, surrounded by the scent that was so unmistakably Ron, shattered her. Traitorous tears slipped freely over her cheeks, and she tried to quell the overwhelming emotion crashing over her. 

They said nothing, existing in the quiet for just a moment. When they separated, both their cheeks splotchy and eyes bloodshot, they shared small, weak smiles and parted ways. 

xXx

Upon staring at her cup of luke-warm soup and wilted salad, Hermione had decided today was done. She felt so utterly depleted by the last twelve or so hours that she couldn’t concentrate, and her ever present shadow of Teddy and their unresolved issues from the night before heralded a pressure headache that she couldn’t shake. 

With a flick of her wand, her desk was packed away, and she toed off her pumps, padding barefoot across her chambers and opening the door. She must look dreadful with the way Gwen’s eyes widened and then winced.

“I’m not feeling well, Gwen. I’ll be Flooing home. Cancel my appointments if you will and drinks with Katie.” She turned, ready to disappear, ignoring Teddy’s weighted stare. “Anything that can’t wait have owled over, yeah?”

Gwen rushed to her feet, fingers pressing onto her desk as she regarded her boss with a nervous lopsided smile. “Of course, Minister. Do you—” She paused, shoulders sagging. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

Her lips parted, ready to decline when a thought popped in her mind. “Yes, actually. Can you see about arranging for the kids to come home this weekend? I have the summit on Saturday, but maybe they’ll spend the day with Ron while I’m out?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll get in touch with the Headmistress and owl you details this evening.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Disappearing inside her office, she left the door open for Teddy to follow her. The click of it behind her made her flinch, and she turned, a weariness deep in her bones as she finally addressed him. 

“I think we might have made a mistake, Teddy.” Panic lined her throat, making breathing—let alone words—feel impossible. “This, you and me, it’s—  _ we’re unsustainable.” _

“Hermione… I’m so sorry.” His forehead wrinkled, chin tucked tight. “I fucked up, both as your security  _ and _ someone who cares for you. I let my emotion get the best of me and—” 

Raising a hand to stop him, she swallowed the knot in her throat. “I think we have to end this… this  _ whatever it is _ . Ron’s right, you dated our niece! You’re still young; you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. It’s not healthy.” 

His eyes turned a deep, chocolate brown, and in a few long strides, he was standing in front of her, palms resting on her shoulders as he dipped his forehead to hers. “Stop. Nobody, especially not your ex-husband, gets to decide what  _ we _ are.”

Hot tears streamed over her cheeks, and she nodded quickly, eyes fluttering shut as the pads of his thumbs swept her cheekbones. “C’mon, let’s get you home.” 

xXx

Bless Teddy Lupin. Sitting cross-legged in her bed in an oversized shirt, she picked at the remnants of the large pizza he’d ran out for. He’d also presumably stopped at his flat, because when he returned he was in grey sweats with large black letters down the leg shouting HUFFLEPUFF at her and a black t-shirt with a little badger on his chest. 

For someone who had such an incredible physique, he certainly did seem to have a pretty liberal diet. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him drop a long string of melted cheese into his mouth. “How strong is your metamorphic gene?”

Brow pinching, he swallowed and rumbled a low laugh. “Are there different hierarchies? I’m the only one I’ve ever met—or remember meeting, rather—so, I don’t know.” The apples of his cheeks pinkened, and Hermione quickly shifted, tucking her legs underneath her and staring at him curiously. 

“Do you work out?” 

“ _ What?”  _ Barking out a laugh, he picked up the crust of another slice and began chewing on it. “What are you getting at?”

“I just mean you could fake it, yeah? You could actually be severely overweight or something, but just change yourself to look all fit.” 

His eyes narrowed into slits, lips quirking up in a knowing smile. “Are you accusing me of not being—”

“Cut from marble?” Her brows inched toward her hairline, and she bit back a smile. “Possibly. I mean, if I had the ability, I’d be all five-foot-ten with legs for days and my twenty-year-old chest, now wouldn’t I?” 

With a soft huff, he dropped the crust back in the box and flicked his wrist, banishing it to the floor with a  _ thud _ , eyeing her playfully. “I’m offended.” 

He shifted too, drawing up on his knees and shuffling toward her. In a swift, fluid movement, he divulged himself of his shirt and tossed it on the floor. With an all too charming smirk, he gripped her wrist and slid her palm up the thick ridges of his abdomen. 

The tight feeling of his muscles under her fingertips made her breath hitch and an ache screamed from her thighs. 

“I can eat pizza and burgers because I wake up every morning at four o’clock and work out—and then, when my day is done, I fuck you until I pass out.” Her gaze remained locked on his, even as he guided her palm lower, past the band of his sweats towards the soft bulge in his trousers. A shattered breath slipped over her tongue, and she balked. “That’s all me too, love.”

If she wasn’t so entirely enamored by the smug little prat, she might hex him; instead, she cupped her hand around him, reveling in the way his lashes fluttered closed and he pressed his hips into her hand. 

Grinning up at him, she began to tug his trousers down and stopped only when his hands came down to rest on hers. “We don’t have too, Hermione. It’s been a day; I was just messing with you.” 

A few curls sprang free from the knot on the top of her head as she shook her head. “No, I want to make up with you properly.” 

With a soft tug and a hitching of her knee, she was straddling his lap, the hem of her oversized shirt kissing her thighs. 

“I will agree to the make-up sex,  _ if _ you agree to the angry sex I’ll be insisting on later for withholding details where your safety is concerned.” Eyes sparkling, he flexed his hips up into her, his palms skimming her thighs. 

She fell on top of him, hands resting on either side of his face as she captured his lips in a soft kiss. “ _ Deal _ .”

xXx

The soft light of the moon flooded her bedroom, and she rested across his chiseled stomach, arms folded and chin resting on her hands as she stared him in the ambient light. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said, voice barely louder than a whisper. 

His fingers trailed up her spine, sending gooseflesh chasing after each track. “Me too. You should have told me. I only want to keep you safe, Hermione.” 

“ _ Thank you. _ ” Pressing her lips to the soft curls on his chest, she began inching up towards his face, finally capturing his lips in a deep kiss. 

Suddenly, a sharp banging, followed quickly by a string of expletives sounded from the front room. Hermione didn’t have to act; she was quickly turned, trapped under his thick arm as he pointed his wand at her bedroom door. 

“ _ Hermione! Damnit! Let me in!” _

Heaving a sigh of relief, she relaxed back onto the mattress. “It’s just Harry.” Eyes fluttering closed, her heart began to steady. Just Harry… just…

With a strangled gasp, she shot up, bringing the corners of her duvet with her in a vain attempt at modesty. “ _ Shite! _ It’s Harry! If he finds you here… oh my Merlin, if he finds you here he is going to bloody skin me alive and wear my teeth as a necklace!”

Scoffing audibly, Teddy peeled the duvet back and shrugged his sweats on, foregoing pants entirely. “That’s a bit dramatic, Minister. The wards allow me to Apparate; I’ll pop back and change and be outside your door in five minutes. Distract him until then, love.” He turned and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and soundlessly disappeared where he stood. 

“Distract Head Auror and Chosen One Harry Potter? Bloody  _ brilliant,”  _ she said to no one at all, kicking at her sheets and nearly falling off the bed. “COMING!” 

Hastily throwing on whatever was in reach, she stumbled through the doorway, falling to the ground in an useless heap. 

“Shite, Hermione! Are you okay?” The rattle of the grate mixed with a disbelieving laugh mocked her. She growled, cheek pressed hard against the plush carpet. 

“Fine, just fine.” With a loud grunt, she pushed up and fixed a too-bright smile on her face, staring down a pissy Harry Potter. 

“Why is this locked?” He kicked the grate, eyes narrowing. 

Panic swelled in her. Merlin, why was she not born a Slytherin and far more capable of lying to save her own skin? “Well… for safety. Yes, extra safe and all.” 

A hot blush spread up her neck and she waved her wand at the Floo, the grate snapping open. 

,

“Teddy outside?” His brows rose, and he jerked his chin towards the door, already en route when Hermione darted for him, palms slamming into his chest. Harry’s eyes rounded, and he cocked his head back, noticing the little badger sitting proudly on her shirt— _ the wrong shirt. _ “Where’d you get a Hufflepuff shirt?” 

Gaping down at her braless chest, Hermione scrambled for words. “I… I love Hufflepuffs.” 

Behind crooked glasses, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Right, who doesn’t? Anyway, I have news from the states, and I’m fucking exhausted. Let me get Teddy and we’ll—”

“I’m so sad!” she shouted, grimacing at the way he flinched away from her. “I’m… yes.” Nodding slowly, she formed a well-meaning lie and shoved him back into the sitting room. “The divorce, you see…”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Harry let out a harsh exhale. “Shite, I’m so sorry, Hermione. Of course, how are you? Did the proceedings go alright?”

“A bit weird. I’m not married anymore. I haven’t been  _ not _ married since I was twenty-one.”

“Yeah, I know.” Guilt washed over her as Harry wrapped her in a tight hug, an awkward hand rubbing her back in an attempt to console her. “You’re going to be alright, though! And whatever I can do, I’m here. Do you want to talk—”

His words died away as the front door creaked open. “Minister? I thought I heard something.” Teddy stepped through, heralding a relieved breath from her own lips, dressed in a sharp black suit with a tight windsor tie. His chestnut hair was pushed back as if she’d never run her fingers through it all. With a familiar smile, he nodded to Harry. “You’re back! That was fast!”

“Yeah, well luckily Watson is an absolute idiot, so my job wasn’t that hard. Sit down; we need to brief, and then I’m going to fucking sleep.” Harry fell into the corner of the sofa, roughing up his hair as a yawn tore past his lips. 

Teddy closed the door and crossed the room, taking a seat across from Harry. She tried her very best to ignore him and the way his lips quirked in a barely-there smile when he noticed her shirt. 

“So yeah, Watson’s an arse, suffice it to say. And he’s sloppy. He was indeed having you tailed here in London and even so far as back in the States. Obviously, he was trying to blackmail you over your bill.” 

“It seems rather extreme, doesn’t it?” Teddy asked, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know the bloke didn’t like the bill, but resorting to blackmail?”

“Drew Watson had been trying to get his own bill through to President Rhodes, one in which the different magical territories in the states would be responsible for their own private military, smaller, more controlled. If it came down to it, armies could essentially be bought like mercenaries.” 

“Merlin! That’s barbaric!” Hermione’s anger thrummed over her skin, and if she could only get her hands on that man…

“I agree with you there, Minister,” Harry said through a yawn, arms stretching high over his head. “Anyway, we were able to secure a warrant, and we found not only pictures of you in his home but also a drug called Troll Bane. It can be recreational, which is probably what he was using it for, but it can also be pretty dangerous. It can knock your arse out with the right amount. President Rhodes immediately relieved him of his spot in MACUSA and an investigation will be forthcoming.” 

The tingle spreading over her skin dissipated, and a relieved breath pushed past her lips. “So it’s over?”

“Over! He has a restraining order set and is ordered to remain in the states until his investigation is complete, after which he will hopefully be put behind bars. Now, I’m off to bed and won’t resurface until the weekend for your summit. With Watson out of the picture, feel free to head home, Teddy.”

“Yes, sir.” Teddy rose, shaking hands with Harry and then nodding to Hermione once. “After you?” 

“Yes, thank fuck. Night, Hermione.” With a haphazard fistful of Floo powder, Harry was gone and Teddy was turning back to her with a devious smile bending his lips. 

A soft laugh bubbled forth, and Hermione retreated towards her room, calling over her shoulder, “I thought you were going home.” 

The sound of the grate slamming shut, made her jump, and suddenly Teddy was there, tossing her over his shoulder and swatting at her bum. “Not bloody likely… We haven’t had our angry sex yet.” 

She squirmed and giggled as he tickled the inside of her thigh, and they fell on her bed in a tangle of limbs and kisses, all memory of being angry at all long forgotten. 

xXx

Hermione woke to soft lips brushing hers, a quiet voice reassuring her that he’d see her later at work, and then he was gone. The bed felt too big, too cold. How on earth she’d gone all these years sleeping alone was beyond her. 

Stretching the sleep from her limbs, she let thoughts of the night before wash over. The soft ache lingering between her legs and the tender spot under her jaw that he’d laved as she unraveled. She should be more upset, she should be distraught over her divorce and the end of a long era of her life… but she wasn’t. 

A grin spread over her lips and didn’t wane as she readied for the day. Dressed in another skirt she knew Teddy would go crazy for and a sheer blouse, she chose her most confidence-boosting heels and was ready to Floo out. But her gaze caught on a tired grey owl perched on her window. 

It wasn’t a bird she recognized, but idly she remembered telling Gwen to send her anything that was of pressing importance and quickly opened the latch and retrieved the thick envelope. 

After a treat and a pet, she bid the bird farewell and ran her wand under the seal. Still preoccupied by thoughts of the day ahead, and maybe more so the night before, she barely registered the glossy feel of the items inside. 

Photos. More photos of her. Of her walking to meetings or down the street, each one with Teddy right behind her, a large crude ‘X’ over his handsome face. 

Her heart clenched and sank heavy in her chest as the air was stolen right from her lungs. Every inch of her trembled, as the pictures floated from her fingers to the floor. Unable to balance in the bloody heels she’d chosen, her knees slammed into the carpet, fingers splaying over a dozen photographs. 

There was no doubt in her mind that they were from Watson. Her fingers curled around one, wrinkling and ruining it as she struggled to drag in broken breaths. 

Cursing under her breath, she let a few wayward tears drift past her jaw and onto the photos before her. Drew Watson might not have his job or his ridiculous bill, but he had Hermione Granger in the palm of his fucking hand. 

xXx

Somewhere in the last twenty or so years, Hermione had mastered the facade of confidence. It was a mask she wore well: a tilt to her chin, a fierce edge to her eyes. 

But today, it felt like she was failing. Her tough exterior was cracking under the pressure as she clutched the photos to her chest and greeted Gwen with a quick nod. 

Teddy stood near her chamber door, fighting a smile with his hands clasped behind his back. “Morning, Minister.” 

“Teddy, can I see you in my office please?” The pain of the upcoming confrontation was indescribable, akin to a jagged blade slicing through her breast bone, stealing her breath and crushing her heart. 

Once behind closed doors, Teddy quickly approached her, hands finding her elbows, and it took all her strength not to sink into his affections. Wrenching herself away from him she thrust the envelope in the space between them, ignoring the hurt flickering over his features. 

“The fuck are these?” he hissed, eyes flicking up from its contents as though she had taken them herself. 

She spoke through gritted teeth, willing her courage into existence. “ _ Those _ mean we’ve run our course, Teddy. This thing between us has to end, for real now.”

“ _ What? _ ” 

“I’m sorry, Teddy. I—” She paused, pinching the bridge of her nose before exhaling sharply. She could do this. She  _ had _ to do this. “I didn’t want it to be like this. But it’s gone too far, it’s too much. I’m the Minister for Magic! I have kids and a barely-day-old ex-husband to consider. I can’t have this sordid affair reaching the  _ Prophet _ .” 

Merlin, it hurt. It hurt in a way that she didn’t realize she could. The heartache she’d stowed away yesterday had returned ten-fold, compounding in on itself. 

“Wait— Hermione, you can’t just…”

“Can’t just what, Teddy? We never even said what this was. And don’t get me wrong, it was fun and lovely, and I will always care for you but…” Words failed her. Traitorous tears stung the back of her eyes, and she fought against her own bloody heart to just  _ say it. _ Say it and be done and deal with the wreckage later. “We’re done. I hope you can understand but I’ll be having you transferred. I don’t want this to be seen as a demotion of any kind, and this won’t affect your salary if you choose to stay on.” 

This was good. Decisive and firm, she could do this. But then he was there, crowding her space and letting the photos drift from his fingers as he cradled her jaw. “Hermione, we aren’t breaking up over this. The photos don’t even show anything…”

He was so close, just a breath away from pressing his lips against hers, and she steeled her resolve, tearing herself from his embrace. She’d wanted to do this gently, to spare both their hearts if possible, but Teddy was quite possibly as tenacious as she was. A thick layer of ice formed around her heart, holding all the broken pieces together, protecting her the only way it knew how. 

“Teddy, that’s enough!” Hermione’s hands sliced through the air, chest heaving as she rounded on him. “I’m old enough to be your mother, for Christ's sake.” Massaging the migraine forming at her temples, Hermione made the final few steps to her desk and pressed her fingertips onto its surface, fortifying herself with long, even breaths. 

“So that’s it?” Teddy snorted, yanking his tie loose as he took an impassioned step towards her. “You just decide for both of us and I have to abide by that? If I may be so bold,  _ Minister _ , but that’s bullshite and you know it. I work harder than any other witch or wizard on your team. And I’m not here just for the perks of fucking you or a bump in my pay grade, alright? I actually give a shite if something happens to you. Merlin, I’ve fallen in—”

Her gaze shot upward, landing on him with a hard edge. “Teddy Lupin, don’t you dare finish that sentence. I’m your boss; I’m your godfather's  _ best friend _ . I’ve been divorced for twenty-four fucking hours!” 

Rolling his eyes, a watery snort escaped him, and he took another step towards her. “Don’t act like this has anything to do with  _ anything _ other than that you’ve fallen for me too and now you don’t want to deal with those consequences. I don’t care if we only exist in the confines of your flat and this office, alright? Those pictures prove nothing except that Watson or whoever the fuck it is wants you to back down.” 

There was a bitter relief that she’d put the shield around her heart, because if she hadn’t she’d be crumbling. Instead, she was strengthening, unable to waver in her resolve where her children were concerned. 

Narrowing her gaze at the man who’d kissed her tenderly just four hours prior, she pretended it wasn’t him; it was anyone else. “I am the Minister for Magic, Mister Lupin. I make the rules  _ and _ the consequences, and I say when it’s gone too far.  _ This has gone too far. _ Harry will be in touch with your new assignment. You’re dismissed.” 

Everything inside her screamed, begging her to take it back, to run into his arms and make amends for this whole wretched thing. But she had a duty, a  _ responsibility _ , that could no longer be ignored for secret rendezvous with dangerously handsome young men. 

Her heart stuttered and pained when she watched his jaw tense and his lovely hazel eyes harden. “As you wish, Minister Granger. But you’re making a fucking mistake.” 

The resounding door slam made her flinch, shaking the ice lodged her in chest free as her heart shattered into a hundred pieces. She stared at the spot he’d just been in, jaw trembling. 

He was right.

She was sure of it. 

Losing him was a mistake she wasn’t sure she could stomach.

** _xXx_ **

** _A/N Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading and for your lovely reviews!! My most wonderous beta is finishing the final chappie so I’m going to be picking up the schedule over the next few days! _ **

** _My alpha loves, In Dreams and MCal, I would be lost without you. And you guys don’t even want to know what this chapter looked like before Ravenslight got her red pen to it. _ **

** _And speaking of Ravenslight… she just posted her new fic today! I’ve had the pleasure of alphaing and READ IT, you will not regret it for a minute. It’s a Dramione based on the Ugly Truth!! It’s hilarious, rom-com at its absolute best. It’s called Scripted! _ **

** _I’ll be back soon! Mwah!_ **


	12. Chapter 12

“And you’re not going to tell me  _ why _ you’ve dismissed my top Auror?” Harry’s eyes narrowed from his seat on the other side of the desk; his suspicion rolled off him heavy waves and slapped against her skin. 

If she could somehow go back in time and find her eleven-year-old self, she might seriously consider shaking the poor girl and telling her to befriend that messy-haired boy at her own risk, because not only was he was a walking trouble magnet and arch-nemesis to the darkest wizard in history, but he would also someday be Head Auror and a right pain in her arse. 

“No.” 

“Did something—” He paused, shifting uncomfortably in his seat before grimacing. “Did he say something? Or  _ do _ something? You know, he’s always harboured this little crush on you, and it’s harmless, but maybe he put his foot in his mouth or something…”

Tears pushed forward, and with a hard swallow, she banished them. “It’s nothing like that, Harry, and I’m not answering any questions about it. I need him reassigned immediately. His pay remains the same, nothing changes.” 

Harry groaned loudly, head falling back dramatically. “You’re really fucking killing me here, you know that? He’s the best guy on my team. Rumor has it Jacobs is stepping down in the New Year; I was ready to offer Teddy the damn job!”

“I’m sorry, but my decision is final.” Her gaze fell to the parchment under her fingers, the final itinerary for the summit for tomorrow, but she saw nothing. Numb. Endlessly numb. How much damage could a single heart take before it ceased working?

xXx

Grate after grate passed until finally hers. Rushing through the Floo, she hadn’t even had a chance to set her bag down before she was bounding across the room, falling to her knees in front of her two, beautiful, fiery-haired children sitting quietly on the sofa and wrapping her arms around their necks. Merlin, she was already crying. 

“Mum!  _ Mum! _ ” Hugo whined, squirming under the suffocation of her affections. “You’re choking us!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Pulling back, she cradled Hugo’s cheeks in her palms, her head canting to the side as she stared at him. He was losing some of his childlike features; his cheeks were thinning, a sharp jaw just starting to form. He was growing up. 

Rosie shifted uncomfortably, and Hermione lifted one palm from Hugo’s face to rest it on her daughter’s. “I love you both so much. You know that, don’t you?”

“Of course, Mum,” Rosie sighed. “We love you, too.” 

Seeing her children fortified her resolve to end things with Teddy. Sure, it hurt like hell, but for her kids, she could stand it. She would have to. 

“What do you want for dinner tonight? Whatever you want!” 

“Pizza!” they rushed in unison, eyes widening in anticipation. 

With a small laugh, she nodded and pressed kisses to their foreheads. “Pizza it is. I have a bit of work in the morning, but you can go to your dad’s if you’d like or just loaf around here. It shouldn’t be long, and then maybe we can go to Picadilly Circus? It’s been ages since we went to see the lights, and I’ve got some galleons burning a hole in my pocket we can spend. Yes?”

Rosie smiled, that bright, beautiful, beaming grin she saved for rare occasions these days. “Could Dad come?”

The innocent question was a stab in her heart.  _ Was she not enough? _

Despite the past few years and the tumultuous nature of their relationship, she and Ron had remained a strong, unified front for their children. They could have a row that lasted until the wee hours of the morning and forced Ron onto the chaise in their bedroom, but in the morning they were side by side in the kitchen. 

Discovering this new normal and how two single parents who could barely stand to be around each other could function together was going to take a while to get used to. 

“We’ll ask him, of course.” Hermione smiled weakly. 

xXx

Hermione picked at her pizza, now having had it two nights in a row, while her children devoured every bite. Hugo had fallen asleep with a book splayed over his chest and his arm hanging off the couch. Rosie had sat just opposite of him, nose still buried in her Arithmancy book. 

At the London flat, the kids’ rooms were pretty sparse. They rarely all stayed there, and truth be told, it’d been purchased with an inevitable separation in mind. 

But having them there, existing in the home that had so quickly come to feel like her exile, warmed the cold recesses of her heart.

She couldn’t help but just  _ stare _ at Rosie, at the women she was growing into. When they’d found out they were having a girl, Hermione had worried she’d muck it up. After all, she wasn’t the most patient or understanding, things that mothers of daughters would benefit from. 

Then  _ she’d _ been born, all wild red curls and pink-cheeked, and Hermione had wondered how she could have ever thought she wasn’t meant to be this girl’s mother. 

Looks certainly weren’t the most important thing for a girl to possess, especially where Hermione Granger was concerned. But  _ Merlin _ , she was beautiful. 

“I can  _ feel _ you staring at me, Mum,” Rose scolded from the corner of her mouth, blue eyes flickering up a moment later to stare pointedly at her mother. 

Pink coloured her cheeks. “Sorry, love. How’s your schoolwork? Quidditch practice going well?”

In the most surprising event of Hermione’s life, Rosie quietly closed her book and turned towards her. “Well enough. Exams are coming up, and Quidditch is done until the new year. Captain said I might make the starting lineup next year if I keep at it.” 

“That’s wonderful, honey!” Sitting up, Hermione couldn’t help the swell of pride filling her chest. “Have you thought about what you want for Christmas? You know I know nothing of brooms, but I eyed one in the shop the other day, and I started poking around—”

“I thought we were going to be with Dad for Christmas.” Rosie’s voice took on an edge that made Hermione bristle. 

Swallowing a knot of nerves in her belly, Hermione fixed a weak smile on her lips. “You’ll be with your dad the first week of holiday and then with me the second. You’ll come here after Christmas at the Burrow, so I’ll still see you. I wanted you to see your family.” 

A wrinkle formed between Rose’s eyebrows. “Why can’t you just come? Grandma Molly would still want you there. I know it!” 

“I know, but—”

“It’s not fair!” Tears welled in Rosie’s blue eyes, her jaw quivering. “You keep saying we’ll still be a family, but we’re not! You won’t be at Christmas? You’ll just be sitting here by yourself?”

“Honey, of course not. I’ll make myself busy somewhere; you need to have some semblance of normal…”

“It’s not normal! How can it be normal if you and Dad aren’t together? How could you let this happen?” Her voice cracked, and Hermione pained to see the ache on her daughter’s face. Opening her arms, she never thought in a million years that her fifteen-year-old daughter would come, but she did, nearly tripping off the couch and into the space between Hermione and the sofa. 

It was probably a little twisted, to feel some joy in this moment, but it was impossible not to. It’d been years since Hermione had been able to just hold her daughter in her arms. Smoothing her soft waves of ruby hair, Hermione shushed her daughter, crooning to her over and over again that things would be alright. 

xXx

Hermione woke with a head on her chest, an arm stretched over her stomach and hair in her mouth. The sun had begun its slow, early rise, and the first light of day pushed through the wide windows of her flat. Rose shifted next to her mum, nestling her head into the crook of her arm and a sleepy smile pulled at her cheeks. 

Damn this stupid summit. Damnit all to hell. She’d happily spend the entire day with her children, and if it weren’t for the fact that it was the culmination of an entire life of work, she’d skive off without another thought. 

Slipping from under her daughter’s embrace, she chuckled as Rose grumbled in her sleep and turned over fitfully, just like her father in that regard. She dressed quickly, long black slacks and a red chiffon blouse. With all luck, she’d be home by lunch. 

She quickly penned a note to Ronald, letting him know he could pop by to be with the kids if he wanted and informed him of the plans for the night, should he want to attend. Surely they could both behave for their children. 

Tucking the letter in her brief, she endeavored to give it to Gwen first thing to have it owled off. She also wrote a quick note to the kids and dropped it on the coffee table, unable to wake them when looked so peaceful. Kissing her fingertips and waving goodbye, she was through the Floo and landing in her office at the Ministry. 

“Thank Merlin, there you are!” Gwen rushed, shoving into her vision with Auror Jacobs looking tired and puffy-eyed behind her. “The delegates from Japan have arrived early; they miscalculated the time change. They’re waiting for you already!” 

“ _ Damnit.”  _ Cursing under her breath, she smoothed her clothes and tossed her bag in the chair. “Coffee, Gwen? I’ll head straight in.” 

“I’m on it, boss!” Gwen disappeared through her chamber doors, and Hermione quickly approached Jacobs and put her hand on his shoulder. 

“Thanks for coming back for this weekend, Jacobs. I promise I won’t keep you long.” 

A genuine, albeit tired, smile formed and he nodded. “Anything for you, Minister.” 

xXx

“Gwen,” Hermione said with a false smile, eyeing the clock now inching towards one-thirty. “Let’s move this along, shall we? My kids are home, and I need to get these signatures and a photograph and get the hell out of here.” 

“Yes, Minister. They’re all quite chatty, aren’t they? Especially considering half of them don’t speak the same language.” 

“Quite.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hermione let out a long huff. “Would you just let the press in?” 

Within moments, a dozen reporters from periodicals she didn’t even recognize flooded the large conference room, and Hermione took her spot at the podium. 

“I just wanted to say a personal thank you for attending this morning. The International Magical Coalition, and your involvement in it, means more to me then I could ever express. I was a child during Tom Riddle’s reign of terror, and the repercussions have been my constant companion all these years. This coalition will herald a new age for the Wizarding World at large. Together we will secure our children’s safety for generations to come. Thank you for being apart of it; thank you for making this dream of mine come true.” 

A soft round of applause sounded through the room, and with a polite smile, she moved to the parchment and signed her name—Hermione Granger. Her wrist almost flicked for the ‘W’ that had accompanied that name for so long, but she smiled down at it in its simplicity. This accomplishment was hers. 

Stepping back, the delegates lined up, signing their names one by one as photographers snapped photo after photo. 

A small witch with a camera that looked far too large for her stepped up, Harry just over her shoulder with an annoyed glare. “Minister? I was wondering if we could get a picture of you and Auror Potter?”

“Of course! I’m sure nothing would  _ thrill  _ Auror Potter more.” Grumbling, Harry came to stand next to her, his hand resting on her lower back as he turned a flat smile for the photographer. 

A laugh bubbled past Hermione’s lips, and she nudged her friend sharp in the side until he smiled properly. 

But then, startling her entirely, a warning chill inched down her spine. Both she and Harry froze, eyes widening at the familiar feeling. 

_ Her wards. _

They’d been breached. A violent flutter of nerves crashed in her chest, and Hermione snapped her gaze to Harry’s. 

“Did you feel that?” Harry asked in a low voice. “Your flat…”

She nodded, eyes darting around the room and the political guests here at her request. “It’s… it’s probably just Ron. I told him he could come be with the kids.” 

“He wouldn’t trigger your wards, Hermione,” Harry warned, nodding to the Aurors stationed around the room. 

Brows furrowing, Hermione grappled at straws, desperate to make sense of it. “He would,” she said firmly, “because of the divorce. Ron no longer owns it, so yes… it’s just—” she paused, throat clenching. “Just Ron.” 

“ _ And a group picture! Minister, can we get you here in front? _ ” someone called, and with shaking legs, she worked herself towards the center of the room, parting from her friend and trying to ignore him giving instructions to his team in the back of the room. 

_ It was just Ron. _

Gwen fluttered by, and Hermione’s hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist as she pulled her to a stop. “Did you hear from Ron about the kids?”

Gwen’s brow pinched. “No… I’m sorry, Minister. Were you expecting something?” 

“You owled off the note to him though?” Panic pressed in on her, suffocating her as the foreboding feeling crushed the air from her lungs. 

“What note?”

“The note I…” Realisation slammed painfully into her, and she let out a sharp exhale, fingers tightening on her assistant’s wrist. The note still sitting her in her bag. “ _ Fuck.”  _

Adrenaline coursed through her blood, and Hermione sought out Harry, who was already pointing his Aurors through the door. They locked gazes, and without a word spoken, they both knew the same. Something was very,  _ very _ wrong. 

Gwen rushed off, and a few flashes rendered Hermione momentarily blinded. All she could hear was the shouting of photographers begging for her to look up and the sound of blood rushing in her ears. 

xXx

Standing shoulder to shoulder at the private Floo in her office were two thick-necked Aurors with stern expressions. 

“Move aside,” she commanded, waving two fingers in the air as she made to enter her grate. 

“Auror Potter’s orders, Minister. You’re not allowed through until your flat has been cleared.” 

The one on the left looked terrified, his jaw trembling and eyes locked on the ceiling. 

“Auror Potter answers to me;  _ you _ answer to me. Move aside— _ now _ —or I will have both of your dismissal papers signed and sent out before I’ve had my afternoon tea. Do you understand?” 

“Minister... we really aren’t—” 

The Auror on the left caved, stepping quickly to the side, and with a resigned sigh, the other followed. 

Pulling her wand out, she stepped through the grate, praying to see her children sitting there with their father. 

But of course, she didn’t. Harry was there, wild-eyed and worried, and when their stares met, she nearly fainted. He didn’t have to say anything. She knew. 

Her children were gone. 

**A/N: My wonderful beta, Ravenslight, has finished up the last two chapters!! She is the most treasured gem, and if I weren’t so excited to sing her prayers I would keep her name all to myself so no one else could have her lol**

**Make sure you are following her new WIP Scripted, inspired by the Ugly Truth! It’s hilarious and so so fun. **

**Big thanks to my Alpha’s, In Dreams and MCal, you guys have bolstered my confidence a hundred times over and I can’t thank you enough. **

**And to my lovely readers! Thank you so much for your lovely reviews, kudos, and follows. I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. I’m sorry I’m a dodo at responding but I read every one and squeal like a child when they are delivered to my inbox. **

**I’ll work on these edits and have the final two chapters up for you as soon as possible! Last cliffie… I promise!**

**-LK**


	13. Chapter 13

**Content warning at the end of the chapter. Nothing I think needs to be added to the tags, but if you have triggers, please visit the AN before proceeding!**

The coffee had gone cold, probably had some time ago, but still, she cradled to her chest like a life vest. The room bustled with people, well-meaning Aurors and Weasleys abound, but Hermione saw none of them. 

Instead, she wrote the list of her transgressions in her mind, etching them into her memory. She shouldn’t have selfishly brought them home; shouldn’t have then left for work; shouldn’t have forgotten to send that damn letter to Ron. She was helpless under the weight of each mark against her, and if only they stopped there. If only the list didn’t run over the parchment and onto the floor. 

Sitting down on her antique coffee table and holding two new steaming cups of coffee, Harry stared at her in worry. “Do you need to go lie down?”

Her gaze flicked up, sharpening as she stared at her best friend. “Absolutely not. What I  _ need _ is to know where my kids are. None of this makes any sense…” Pinching her eyes shut, Hermione felt the last of her waning energy fade away, fatigue washing over her. Harry lifted the mug from her grip and took her small hands in his, holding them tightly.

“We’re going to find them, Hermione. I promise.” Fiercely green eyes implored her to believe him, but with every damning minute that passed, her anxiety climbed. 

The Floo roared to life, but then it had on and off for the better part of an hour now, and Hermione barely registered the sound. Not until a familiar someone was falling into the spot next to Harry. 

“Minister?”  _ Teddy. _

Gasping, Hermione pulled her hands from Harry and reached for Teddy, gaining a tight, suspicious look from the Head Auror. “Teddy! You’re here—”

“Of course I’m here. Would have been sooner but Harry wanted me down in Knockturn knocking on doors.” She studied him as if he were brand new to her, the sharp cut to his jaw, the fierce blue of his eyes, and the worry that crinkled the edge of his gaze. 

“Did you—”

“Nothing. I’ve got my contact digging deeper, and he’ll report back as soon as finds anything.” His thumb traced over the back of her hand, and she couldn’t help but stare at the simple, soothing gesture. “What do you need?”

When she looked up, her gaze drifted to Harry, who was staring with wide, rounded eyes at their interlocked fingers, putting dangerous pieces together. Ripping her hands from Teddy’s, she rushed to her feet. 

“I’m going to the loo,” she croaked, nearly stumbling over her furniture as she retreated to the safety of her ensuite. 

Approaching her long mirror, she steepled her fingertips onto the marble countertop and stared at herself.  _ How could she have allowed this to bloody happen?  _ Her features were drawn, skin pallid with light purple circles around her eyes. Even her curls seemed deflated, hanging sad and heavy over her shoulders. With a long suffering sigh she dropped her chin and stared down at the pretty iridescent stone countertop she’d chosen a few years back.

Off to the left, tucked just behind her perfume bottle, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before. A small scroll, no bigger than her forefinger, tied neatly with a small red string. 

With a furrowed brow, she plucked it quickly from its resting place and peeled it open.

_ 45 Bleaker Street. Come alone.  _

_ xXx _

  
  


She’d found it easily enough even though she’d never been to this  _ particular _ part of London before. And by particular, she meant seedy and grimy; the buildings were dark and unwashed, all the windows caked with dust so thick she couldn’t see inside. 

Unfurling the small scroll of parchment, her fingers trembled as she stared up at 45 Bleaker Street. Perhaps she should have just told Harry; that would have been the responsible thing to do, perhaps even the smart thing to do. But desperation had driven her forward, Apparating silently from her bathroom without another thought. It’d taken her nearly an hour to find the right area.

Now standing here, she considered going back, getting help; but if that monster saw, if he harmed a single hair on their precious heads, she wasn’t sure how she’d ever come back from that. So, what, he wanted Hermione? He could have her. After all, she was nothing without them. 

The soft thrumming of magic pooled at her lower back where her wand was stowed in her waistband. Every instinct screamed at her to withdraw it, to march in wand lofted and cursing anything that moved. But reason stayed her. She would need to use every semblance of cunning she could muster. 

With a fortifying breath, she climbed the stairs and pushed the door open. The stinging pain of a ward washed over her shoulders, and she flinched away from it. Just an hour ago she’d felt devoid of any energy at all, and now adrenaline mixed dangerously with her magic and pulsed through her veins. 

The house reminded her much of Grimmauld, dark and dirty, cobwebs hanging low from the ceilings as though their long fingers were reaching for her. There was also a distinct, unpleasant smell emanating from the carpet that made her nose wrinkle. 

Luckily for Hermione, her skill at wandless magic had only increased in the years following the war and she muttered a short  _ Homenum Revelio _ watching a soft, glowing ember appear and then light a trail up the rotting stairs. With long, hard breaths, she focused on her steps forward. The small ball of light paused over a door at the end of the hall near the back of the house, and she pushed ahead, listening for any sound of her children. 

She stopped at the end of the hall, watching as the light disappeared through the wood. Horrifying images crawled across her mind, visions of her children dead or mutilated. 

Knees shaking she reached for the door handle only to have it ripped away, the door crashed into the exposed wall with a loud  _ thud. _

Everything ceased; nothing mattered. In two rickety little chairs sat her children, dirty cloths tied in their mouths and hands bound behind them. Hugo’s head hung low against his chest, his body limp, held upright only by his binds. 

But Rosie…

Rosie had thick, dirty tear streaks striping down her cheeks, her eyes wide and horrified as she struggled against the hold on her limbs. 

“Oh, my sweet girl!” Hermione cried, rushing across the room and falling to her knees in front of them, just as she had the night before in her posh little flat. “Are you okay?” Her voice turned low and worried, palms lifting Rosie’s face and pulling the gag from her mouth, then turning her attention to Hugo. His breath was there, consistent if not shallow, and Hermione let out a long breath that cut short when Rose began sobbing and shouting at her. 

“What? Rosie, try to calm down. We’re—”

Behind her, the door slammed shut, and from the shadows, Drew Watson appeared, clutching a bottle of firewhisky at his side. He vaguely resembled the man she’d met weeks prior in the States; his hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot, a cruel smile pulling at his mouth. 

She turned, throwing her arms in front of her children. “Watson, this is a  _ bad _ idea. Do you have any idea how many people you have looking for you right now? Aurors will be here any minute—”

“Bullshite,  _ Minister,”  _ he snorted. “You’re not stupid enough to risk these two on something so stupid as bringing the fucking Auror Department or your little boyfriend.” A sharp inhale sounded in her ear, and she felt Rosie tense under her arm. “Besides, anyone who walks through that front door will be dust before they’ve made it two steps. Funny little dark ward of mine, picked it up in Southeast Asia.” 

“What do you want? I didn’t  _ do _ anything to you! I didn’t even tell anyone about the photos—they were found!”

“ _ Tsk, tsk, tsk. _ Well, that seems like a  _ grave _ error, Minister.” The way he spoke her title caused a shiver to bloom at the base of her skull, inching along her skin until her limbs trembled. As he stepped from the shadows, she could see the full deterioration of him, skin gaunt and grey, dark purple circles puffing under his skin. “After all, I did implore you to be careful. I’ll ask for your wand, if you please,” he said, gesturing to the space in front of his feet. “And don’t do something fucking stupid like pointing it at me, or I’ll kill the dweeby one with the bad haircut.” 

Even the thought shot fear through her heart, and her breath hitched painfully, catching in her throat as one hand left Rose and reached for her wand. Her instincts rioted, begging her to fight, but something deeper implored her to listen, to find a weak spot and not bring this to a wand fight. If that happened, she’d have three people to protect and only one wand. Her hands grabbed the length of her vinewood, the same one she’d had since she was eleven years old, and tossed it haphazardly towards his feet. 

Rosie fought, thrashing and pulling at the ropes tying her hands back, screaming nonsensical profanities. 

A wide, maniacal grin crept across Watson’s features, and he bent down to pick up his prize, twirling it clumsily in his fingers before flourishing it through the air with a lazy, “ _ Silencio _ .” 

Rosie fell quiet, though her body still rioted. Managing a quick, meaningful look at her daughter, Hermione stood, willing her legs not to shake as her hands rested at her sides, and she stared down the fool who’d gone and made the biggest mistake of his life. 

“Smartest thing you’ve done all day, Minister. Now...” He paused, pacing back and forth with an idle canting of his head. “I’m not sure if you realize just how much of a mess you’ve made for me. A criminal investigation, forced to resign from my seat in Congress, a whole  _ slew  _ of slanderous press—it’s a mess, truly.” 

Hermione’s brow arched as she watched his every step. With each movement, she shifted, squaring herself between him and her children. “I have to say, I’m not sure I can take full responsibility for that. Seems like maybe you might have had a hand in it as well, no?”

He pulled a face. “Still, seems that we should even the score a bit, yeah? So, here’s what I want you to do, Hermione. Run on down to Gringotts, and I want you to withdraw an  _ exorbitant _ sum. I’ve always thought it was a bit—” is nose wrinkled as he thought “— _ tacky  _ to request a ransom. Bad taste and all that. So I’ll leave it to you. You get to decide how much your children are worth, bring that back in a pretty little bag, and I won’t be forced to do to Rose what Hugo had to endure. It’s a messy business I’d rather avoid if possible.” 

Narrowing her glare, Hermione felt her magic crawl across her skin, sparking and sizzling on her fingertips. Something dangerous flashed behind his dark eyes, and he lifted his own wand, pointing it directly at Rose. “ _ Crucio.”  _

_ “NO!” _ Hermoine turned, watching in horror as her daughter’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, still inflicted with the silencing charm that stole her screams. Her body contorted, arms pulling and twisting— _ fighting _ . It was, mercilessly, quick; he dropped his wand and her daughter’s tiny frame went limp, head rolling back as she dragged in broken breaths. 

Baring her teeth, Hermione turned back towards the man cackling in the corner of the room. “That was a mistake,” she hissed through gritted teeth. 

With a watery snort, Watson brought the bottle back up to his lips, tipping it back and then throwing it against the wall. “I’ve got two wands, and you’ve got nothing. Checkmate, Minister.” 

Eyes fluttering, she felt that welcome surge of her magic, and her hands flattened, fingers splaying as it coursed through her. Magic shot from her hands and with a hard shove of her palms backward, both chairs flew backward, fractionally further from the monster across from her.

Watson’s eyes blew wide as he fumbled for his wand, but he was too drunk, too slow. Raising her palms, channeling her magic with nothing at all but the fierce love for her children, she formed a shield around them as three successions of magic plummeted against the hard shell of her  _ Protego. _

Another spell, this one stronger, _ dirtier, _ slammed into her, and she felt the small crack in her protection, a tear slipping from the corner of her eyes. Defensive magic wouldn’t win here, not without her wand to fortify her. Eyes slipping closed, she focused on the most powerful memory she could: Rosie’s cry as she fought her way into the world, pink and pudgy and all hers. 

The shield dropped and a rush of ethereal blue magic burst forward, staggering the ex-Senator as her fingers danced in the air calling her wand to her. She could kill him, could fucking dismember the arse, and with her wand firmly in her fingers, she considered it. 

But his gaze drifted to her children, nostrils flared and eyes hard, and she couldn’t think past protecting them. Bringing up a stronger shield as his  _ Avada _ slammed into its surface, she cried out, feeling a bit of her magic whither away, and with a loud crack, his spell ceased. Letting out a broken, relieved breath, her eyes snapped open. Teddy was there, his thick arm wrapped around Watson’s neck and his wand pressed into the hollow his jaw. 

“You sick fuck—” Teddy barely managed the worlds through gritted teeth, and Watson’s wand clattered to the floor. Summoning it quickly to her grasp, Hermione turned for her children. Despite being thrown back with too much force, she hadn’t harmed them further in her rush to push them back. 

Rosie’s eyes were still blank, unseeing, as she swallowed ragged breaths; Hugo was still limp and unchanged. Behind her, Teddy stunned and promptly dropped the man with a loud  _ thud _ , rushing to her side. He worked quickly, methodically, lifting her son’s head and pushing his eyelids open, shining soft light in his eyes. With a quick flick of his wrist, his body was freed and deposited into Hermione’s waiting arms.

Shuffling across the dirty floor, he freed Rose and lifted her gingerly, holding her in the crook of his arm as he cradled her cheek with his other palm, performing similar tests on her, checking her pulse and a quiet diagnostic. Hermione watched with bated breath, looking for bruises or other signs of assault, and finally breathed when there was nothing but the lingering effects of the Unforgivable. 

“They’ll be okay. There’s a healer downstairs to take a closer look, but they’ll be okay, Hermione.” A thundering of creaking footsteps sounded from below, and Hermione’s bewildered gaze sought out his. “It’s okay, it’s the Aurors— _ oh shite.”  _ Turning towards the heap of stupefied wizard on the floor, Teddy pulled his wand. “ _ Incarcerous.  _ Harry will have my arse if I forget to do that part.” An awkward grimace graced his lips, and she couldn’t help the dry laugh that bubbled forward, still in disbelief he was there at all. 

She turned to Hugo in her lap, tears slipping from her cheeks and onto his, and as the sound of impeding steps bound up the stairs, she reached for Teddy, fingers curling around his forearm as she mouthed a silent  _ thank you _ . 

The door was shoved open, half a dozen Aurors pouring into the room, wands drawn, scouring for the perpetrator. Harry followed, his worried features falling into relief then transforming again as he leveled her with a narrowed glare. Next was Ron, pushing past them all as the Aurors began tending to Watson. Horrified, he fell to his knees beside his children, pushing the long red fringe from his son’s forehead and then turning to Rose, searching her blank expression and faltering. 

“She’ll be okay, Mister Weasley,” Teddy said confidently, lifting Rose and depositing her gently in her father’s arms. He stood, avoiding Hermione’s probing stare as Katie Bell—and  _ was that Lucius Malfoy _ ?—burst in behind them. Teddy rose swiftly to his feet, tucking his wand behind his ear and pushing his chestnut fringe from his eyes. “Harry! These two need immediate evacuation to St. Mungo’s Unforgiveables Department—”

“ _ Unforgiveables!”  _ Ron choked, tears welling in his eyes as he cradled his trembling daughter tighter. 

An older witch pushed through the throngs of people, hollering at them to get back, and came to Hermione and Ron’s side. Quietly, she reassured them that she was going to look after the children and that they would be quickly admitted to a private room and available for visitors after a series of tests and diagnostics. 

“I’m going to take them with me now, is that okay?” 

On instinct, Hermione’s hold tightened, but upon seeing the spasm in her daughter’s hand, remembering how her own tremour had lingered for several years due to lack of proper treatment, she acquiesced, tears streaming down her cheeks as the Mediwitch placed her hands on both children and Disapparated with a quiet pucker of magic. 

“I need to get to the hospital,” she croaked, rising to her feet and buckling, falling back to her knees as Ron wrapped a protective arm around her. 

“We will, but you can’t apparate like this… Portkeys, Harry?” Ron nodded at their friend, and with a mumbled command, an Auror slipped a bag from his robes and handed it to his boss. 

Behind tear-logged eyes and heavy fatigue, she noted the worried expressions on Katie and Teddy’s faces, the absolutely  _ fury _ on Harry’s, and the resident scowl of Lucius Malfoy. Then, a small Muggle die was falling into her palm, and with a swift tug of magic, they were gone.

**xXx**

**A/N: Thanks again for reading and reviewing! It means so much to me, I wish I could tell you all properly! Biggest of thanks to my dream team, MCal, Indreams, and Ravenslight for their eyes, hearts, and love on this piece! **

**I’ll get this last chapter edited and up as soon as possible! Please let me know what you think!**

** Chapter Warning: contains a short scene of torture.  **


	14. Chapter 14

It would seem neither time nor being an entirely new person did anything to brighten the Welcome Witch’s mood at Saint Mungos. After all these years, she was still a right witch, in the worst sense of the word. 

Ron and Hermione had landed, drawn and gaunt, tears streaming down their cheeks. She responded by staring down her sharp noise with a sour pucker to her lips. It didn’t take long for the rest of the entourage to fill the waiting room—nearly a dozen Weasleys and the Aurors who’d been at Bleaker Street. Katie arrived, sans Lucius, and Hermione let out a relieved sigh as her friend rushed to her side, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulders. 

Next to her, Ron sat quietly bent over, cradling a cup of steaming coffee he couldn’t tear his gaze from. The air felt too heavy, strung too tightly, like it was pushing in on her lungs. Everyone had the good sense not to speak to her; even Molly avoided her, fluttering about the room and tending to everyone else. 

Hermione had no idea how much time passed, engrossed only in the thoughts of her children stowed behind closed doors, doors that couldn’t be pushed through—not even as the Minister for Magic. 

A thousand mistakes bloomed in her mind, lefts when she should have gone right, meetings she shouldn’t have taken, Quidditch games she should have dropped  _ everything _ for. 

Finally, when she could bear the weight of her transgressions no longer, the doors opened, and the Mediwitch from before entered, a soft sheen of sweat on her brow as she searched the overwhelming number of red-heads for the ones in question. Lips wilting in fear, Hermione stood, Katie’s hands helping her to her feet. Those hands were quickly replaced with Ron’s, who guided her towards the front. 

“Mister and Missus Weasley, I’m Healer Wright. I work closely with the Auror Department and have been tending to your children. I have an update for you, if you’d—” She paused, eyeing the sheer number of people crowding around them now, ears eager. “Would you like to go somewhere more private?”

Shoulders sagging, Hermione waved her fingers through the air. “We’ll just have to tell them later. G’on.” 

“Rose and Hugo are going to be just fine; they’re strong. Luckily for them both, it seems that they were not subjected to  _ prolonged _ use of the  _ Cruciatis _ , which can, of course, cause lifelong maladies.” Her heart fortified and  _ finally  _ began beating again. “Hugo, by the grace of Merlin, seemed to be stunned, no sign of Unforgiveables.” The healer’s lips quirked in a smile, and Hermione’s brow wrinkled. “His knuckles are bruised; I think he landed a solid punch, if I’m honest. A fighter if I ever saw one.” 

Pride and relief swelled in her heart, her knees buckled, giving way, and Ron caught her weight, helping to right her. 

“Your daughter  _ was  _ subjected to the  _ Cruciatis _ —” Healer Wright’s voice fell, her features steeling. “We won’t be able to assess the extent until she wakes fully, and we’d like to keep her under just a bit longer. But, save for some physical therapy, pain potions and, at worst, some nerve regrowth, she will be fine and back on the Quidditch pitch in the fall. If you’d like to see them—” 

_ “Yes!” _ Hermione and Ron nearly shouted, and the healer smiled in kind, turning and gesturing for them to follow. 

Once inside their hospital room, by far the nicest one Hermione could ever remember seeing, they collapsed at their children’s bedsides, whispering in their ears how very much they loved them, how happy they were they were okay and promises that  _ nothing _ like this would ever happen again. 

xXx

Hugo woke some time later but was given a Dreamless Sleep almost immediately after. It was now after midnight and despite having “only” been stunned, Healer Wright was insistent he needed his rest. They’d also offered Hermione a draught, which she refused and instead curled up in the soft glow of moonlight, staring at her two resting children. 

“We’ve really made a mess of things.” Ron said, lips quirking in that lopsided smile she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He was leaning against the far wall, hands shoved in his trouser pockets and chin tucked. “Sometimes, I look back, and I still don’t know where we went wrong.” 

“Ron…” Her heart ached for him— _ for them _ —but it had suffered too much bludgeoning in the past few days, barely thudding enough to keep her upright. 

“I know— I just... I’ve realized how shitty I’ve been at telling you some things over all these years. And—” He paused, gulping. “Now seems a good time.” His clear blue eyes lifted to hers, heavy and fringed with sorrow. “I resented you and your success. I’m so sorry.” 

A sharp huff passed her lips, and her jaw trembled with an onslaught of unfamiliar emotion. How long had she pondered those words? How long had she waited to hear them?

He continued, “I wanted more for me, and I blamed you for keeping me from it. But now that it’s over— _ that we’re over— _ I realize how ridiculous that sounds. I let that get in the way of how much I loved you, and I swear that I’m sorry.” 

Hot tears skimmed her cold cheeks, and she shook her head, still reveling in her disbelief. “I’m sorry too, you know. I think—I think I knew how you felt. And when I was mad or jealous of what you were doing with the kids, I’d throw it at you like it was something to be ashamed of. But the truth of it is our family needed you. I wouldn’t be in the Minister’s chair if you hadn’t been with the kids and supporting me. The kids sure as hell would be a lot more messed up.” Pausing, her mind reeled with memories of their life together. “I can’t stop thinking of all the mistakes we’ve made.” 

A dry laugh burst from his chest, and he grinned at his shoes. “We’ve made a fair bit of those, eh?” She smiled, too, finding a sliver of hope for their future as a different kind of family. “But at least we can know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we didn’t mess them up. They’re the best parts of us, none of the bad.”

Wrinkling her nose, Hermione chuckled and leaned back in her chair. “A little of the bad. Hugo sleeps with his socks on, and Rosie grumbles in her sleep— just like their father.

Ron rolled an only  _ slightly _ amused glare her way, but his lips twitched, and she felt all at once okay. They would be okay. 

xXx

Ron became testy around three am, unable to sleep in his makeshift cot. Hermione had shooed him away, telling him to come back in the morning and that she’d owl if anything changed. At some point she must have dozed off, because it wasn’t until the door clanged open and she startled awake, belligerently wiping the drool from her chin, that she’d realised it’d happened at all. 

Harry strode in, a smug spring to his step as he handed her a hot coffee. “Saw the new healer outside; they’ll be coming to wake them both after morning rounds, an hour or so.” 

“ _ Really? _ Oh, that’s wonderful.” Her shoulders sagged, and she smiled genuinely. “I should tell Ron…” 

“ _ Ah. Ah. Ah. _ I think we need to talk.” 

She flinched. “Okay…” 

“Let’s start with the most obvious: why in the hell would you meet that maniac by yourself? Do you have any idea—”

Holding her hands up in submission, she shushed him. “I know, Harry. No more cowboy moves, yeah? You’re the boss.” She winked and watched as his hardened features softened, humming under his breath. 

“Better be,” he said, taking a hard sip and wincing as the coffee scolded his tongue. “You’ll be briefed as soon as the kids are awake and well, alright? Don’t even  _ try _ and fight me, Hermione. I’m in no mood.” 

Chuckling to herself she blew over the surface of her steaming cup. “I’m not fighting you.” 

“That’s right—” Stiffening, he narrowed his glare at her. “You’re not. Why aren’t you fighting me?”

Her brow arched from behind her coffee mug. “Call it self-preservation; I’m too tired to fight you any longer. I’ll brief as soon as we talk to the kids.” A thought burst to the front of her mind and pushed past her lips before she could think better of it. “Why on earth was  _ Lucius Malfoy _ there?” Her lips puckered around the name as if it were a lemon. 

“Confidential.” 

“Bullshite, Harry. Tell me!” 

Rolling his eyes, Harry flicked his fingers towards the empty chair, and it slid across the dingy floor, landing next to her. He sat, crossing an ankle over his knee and draping an arm around the back of her chair with a gleeful grin. “Lucius Malfoy is our informant. Teddy went in to check on you after you’d been in the loo for an ungodly amount of time—” Emerald eyes searched her for a crack in her well-practiced facade, finding nothing. “And you were,  _ obviously _ , gone. Bloody lucky for you, our informant finally caught wind of some seedy activity. Watson was poking around down in Knockturn, the bloke owes Lucius Malfoy, and the rest is the rest. That handy little tracker you seem so fond of hating probably saved your life. We had to hold back when we arrived; there was a nasty curse at the front door.” 

A wrinkle formed between her brows. “Then how did Teddy...”

Harry’s eye twitched and a flutter of nerves climbed up her throat. “I told you: Teddy’s the best. He went through advanced training with some of the best offensive and defensive tactical teams in Europe, even in the States, I think. He used a spell, a lot like sonography, to map you in the house based on your voices and Apparated in; Watson only warded the front door, seems he was in a rush.” 

“Teddy…  _ blind Apparated? _ ” Awe colored her voice as she remembered him suddenly popping into the room and disarming Watson. 

“He did.” The weight of Harry’s stare felt heavy and intrusive on her skin, and a hot blush climbed up her throat as she averted her gaze to Hugo who’d begun stirring. 

A dry, hacking cough burst past her son’s lips, and in an instant, she was falling to his side, pushing his too-long hair from his brows. Happy tears rimmed her eyes, and even as he sputtered and fussed, she couldn’t help but trace her fingers over her baby’s face, pressing her lips to his forehead again and again. 

“ _ Mum _ ...” 

“Oh, my sweet boy. My sweet, sweet boy. You’re so brave!”

Shifting under the weight of her affection, Hugo grimaced and croaked for a glass of water. 

“I’ll leave you two,” Harry mumbled, his hand coming down gently on her shoulder. 

“Thanks, Harry. Will you let Ron know that Hugo’s awake and they’ll be waking Rose?”

“You got it, Minister.” Harry crossed the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Say,” he added, pausing with his hand on the door knob, “you wouldn’t happen to know why my godson is still in the waiting room, would you?”

The blood drained slowly from Hermione’s cheeks, her eyes rounding as a weight settled on her chest. “He— he is?” 

“Yep. Hasn’t left all night according the Welcome Witch, and he looks like absolute shite. You wouldn’t know why your interim Head of Security would feel the need to stay even though he’d been dismissed for the night and you have two Aurors of your own outside the door?”

Heat bloomed on her cheekbones, and she clenched her eyes shut, fingers splaying out over Hugo’s chest. “Harry…”

“Never mind.” Harry’s hand waved through the air. “I think there may just be some things I don’t want to know— _ ever _ . Yeah?”

A heavy sigh of relief pushed past her lips, and she nodded. “Yeah… thanks, Harry.” 

The door clicking shut signaled his departure, and Hermione turned all her attention to Hugo, who stared at her with a curious, lidded glare.

xXx

The briefing process was mostly painless; it helped that everything had gone so fast. Rosie had woken with a pounding headache and a sharp pain in her spine, and the healers had decided to keep her mostly asleep the rest of the day. Hugo, however, was ready to be discharged, complaining endlessly about the uncomfortable bed and lack of privacy. 

So Ron had brought him back to the house, and Hermione remained until her briefing was done. Healer Wright had returned for today’s shift and insisted Hermione return home and rest, shower, and then come back for another wake-up this evening. At first, she’d been offended that it was even thought that Hermione might leave her children after what happened, but as the minutes wore into hours and Rosie remained steadfastly asleep, Hermione gave in. 

With a heavy trudge to her step, she made her way to the Apparition point past the waiting area. From the corner of her gaze she caught a shock of teal hair, and she whipped around. 

_ Teddy. _

His hands were folded neatly over his stomach, head fallen back and lips parted as a soft snore vibrated through the air. Her heart pained, and before she’d thought any better of it, she was crossing the room in a few easy strides and falling into the seat next to him. 

Startling awake, Teddy reached for his wand, and with a soft chuckle, she placed a calming hand on his forearm. He was perfectly sleepy, blinking her into focus and lips screwing up as he straightened. 

“Hermoine? Is everything—”

“Everything’s fine, Teddy.” Lifting her fingers to thread through the soft fringe hanging over his forehead, she smiled fondly at him. “I’m heading back for a shower and some sleep. Do you—” Her throat felt suddenly too tight, too hot, and she swallowed the anxiety crowding her vocal chords. “Do you want come?”

Hazel eyes fluttered across her features, a genuine smile forming on his full lips. “That sounds great.” 

xXx

Still drenched from the shower. Hermione pulled her thick robe tighter around her and climbed on top of her covers. Teddy joined soon after, teal fringe sticking up every which way, a few stray pieces plastered onto his forehead. They hadn’t really spoken, certainly hadn’t had sex, not even a wandering fingertip out of place. 

Instead, under the thick veil of steam in her standing shower, he’d dragged his nails across her scalp, running his long fingers through her curls until the suds were gone. He’d held her there a minute, letting the hot jets pelt on their shoulders, chin resting on the top of her head as she cried softly into bare chest. 

But now in the safety of her bed, curled on his chest and unable to look up at him, words failed her. Of all the brilliant ones she knew, they felt watery when strung together, too weak to hold meaning. “I’m sorry.” His hold tightened, chest filling with a long inhale. “For everything, really. I don’t even know where to start… I swear I used to be this really put together person. I didn’t have these wild emotional outbursts or get my children kidnapped.” Her lips quirked in a hollow smile. “You would have liked me back then.” 

His lips pressed to the top of her curls. “I like you now. I’d like you more if you stopped risking your life and trying to break up with me—but lessons learned.” 

“I haven’t been very emotionally available these past few years. Can I blame it on that?” 

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and she felt him nod. “I suppose you could.” 

“The thing is, I did end up falling for you, in some way or another. And it wasn’t at all what I intended to do, and I’m not really sure what to do about it now. I can’t  _ date _ you; I just got divorced three days ago. I don’t have anything to offer you…” 

“Hey…” Crooning, he shifted her in his arms, fingers tilting her chin up to look at him. “I don’t expect anything from you. I’m not asking to move in or get married or anything of the sort. I  _ am _ asking that you not to end things because you’re scared. If you don’t want to be with me or damage your political reputation or relationship with your kids, I’m okay with that. And if you decide that it’s enough to make you walk away, so be it. But not because you’re scared of what’s happening between us. I know I’m young, alright. That’s not lost on me. But I still care about you and want to be with you in whatever capacity you can manage right now. Whether that’s a shag on the weekends or dinner three times a week or a coffee on Sundays.” 

A happy laugh broke the tension and she lifted her fingers to trace the hard edge of his stubbled jaw. “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Sure you do.” His grin widened. “Everyone deserves at least one Hufflepuff in their lives, and I’m a damn good one. Only the very best for you, Minister.” 

Rolling her eyes, a genuine smile spread over her face for the first time in days, and she pushed up until she could pillow her lips against his. When she moved to pull away, his hand cradled the base of her skull and deepened it. There was no demand behind it, no request for more, just the firm press of his mouth to hers before parting.

“I’ve been offered the job as Head of Security, you know. Jacobs is moving to a less demanding position.” 

She hummed in response, a yawn following closely after as she rested her head on his chest. 

“I was thinking, during that first week of Christmas hols, maybe you could use a little sunshine. You’ve been working hard, Minister, and as your head of security, it would be my responsibility—nay, my  _ pleasure _ —to escort you on a vacation.” 

Her eyes shot open, and she shot up quickly to stare at him, finding a wolfish grin on his handsome face. “We can’t go on vacation, Teddy!”

“ _ Why not?  _ You deserve a holiday; we’ll back by Christmas afternoon when you need to pick up your kids, at which point I will go to my Grandmother’s, and all will be well. Come on… I’d love to see you in the sun with a skimpy lit—”

“Teddy!” she chastised with a laugh. But soon she found she was mulling it over, chewing on her lip in thought. Her work with the IMC was finished until the New Year, budget proposals would have been finalized, and escaping to a tropical location for a week might be just what she needed. 

“ _ Is that a yes?! _ ” He was nearly vibrating with excitement, his hair flashing suddenly to a bright blue, and she rolled her eyes.

“That’s a maybe.”

But two weeks later, under the scorching sun of the Caribbean while a shirtless Teddy soaked in the warmth on a lounge chair next to her sporting hot pink hair, Hermione realized that while her life had insisted upon crumbling around her,  _ she _ had been in charge of reconstruction, and with every piece meticulously placed, she had found her own happiness. 

**EPILOGUE**

Six Months Later

_ “Minister!” _

“Minister Granger! Can you speak on—” 

“Is it true that your ex-husband is engaged? And so shortly after your divorce is finalised?”

“We’ve heard you have yourself a new beau. Any details?”

“Minister!  _ Minister!” _

With every clack of her heels towards the Portkey Office, Hermione could feel her ire inching up her throat, ready to spew venom on the next person who spoke. 

“Reports say that you’ve taken a lover! There have been photos leaked of you with man in Italy  _ and _ Greece. What can you say to that?” 

From the corner of her eye, Teddy grinned and coughed into his fist before steeling his features and parting the crowds for her. It had been him in the photos, of course, but he’d changed his hair and worn sunglasses, so when they sat at the little patio table eating pizza in Florence, no one had  _ really _ known it was him. No one except her kids, who found out two months ago, and Ron—well, and of course Harry. 

“MINISTER! Are you going to give answers to your constituents about—”

At that she reeled, turning on the same mousy little brown-haired girl from all those months ago. “About what, Miss Waters? About my personal life? Why on earth would you feel that you are privy to who I’m spending my time with outside of my office? Does it in some way affect the way I conduct myself while in these walls or on Ministry business?  _ Absolutely not. _ You’re just nosy, the lot of you.” Her lip curled in a harsh scowl. 

Huffing to herself, she faced the rest of the crowd. It’d been a long year of secrets and hiding the parts of her that made her feel most alive. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she let her shoulders sag and turned back on the press. 

“And you know what? I  _ am _ seeing somebody. I’ve wanted to keep it secret because of my family, and it’s a little scandalous and... he’s younger than I am but, you know what,  _ who gives a shite. _ If you don’t want to reelect me next term because of who I’m dating, then that’s fine. You’ll be losing yourself a damn good Minister for Magic.” 

“MINISTER! WHO IS THIS MYSTERY—” 

Before the question had completed, Hermoine’s hands were curling around the back of Teddy’s thick neck and dragging him down to her, crushing her lips against his teeth as he grinned widely. After a moment, his arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off her toes to the symphony of a dozen camera clicks. When they parted, teeth knocking from smiling too broadly, the crowd of reporters roared to life again. 

“Minister, are you trying to say—”

“Teddy Lupin, would you remind us how old you are?”

“What does your family have to say about this sordid affair? I can’t imagine the infamous Molly Weasley being too thrilled…” 

At that name, Hermione’s face twisted in panic.  _ Bollocks. _ “Forgot to tell Molly, didn’t I…” 

“Yep.” Teddy’s lips popped. “Oh well, I’m sure she’ll handle it well.” 

“That her ex-daughter is dating her granddaughters ex-boyfriend? Fat chance.” 

“Oh well.” He shrugged, teeth cutting into the bow of his bottom lip. “Good thing you’ve got the best security detail. I’ll keep that adorable bum safe.” 

“From Molly?” She snorted. “Good luck…” 

“ _ Minister!” _

  
  


**xXx**

**A/N: That’s a wrap folks!! Thanks for following along this story with me; I do believe it’s my longest rare pair to date! I had a bunch of fun with cheeky Teddy and mama Hermione. **

**I can’t say enough thanks to In Dreams and MCal who saw this at it’s ugliest and rawest forms and made me believe it wasn’t utter trash. And to Ravenslight who took that utter trash and made it pretty. You guys have no idea how much you mean to me and I love you!**

**As always and forever, thank you, dear readers. I don’t know how much I would write if it weren’t for your constant support, it’s what keeps me going when I’m sure I can’t possibly. For those of you who jumped ship to follow me here, thank you extra! It means so much to me that you’d trust me no matter who Hermione is boning lol I cherish each and every review and if you’d like to chat more with me, head on over to Tumblr!**

**And that’s all folks! I have no pieces currently being posted and it’s been a hot minute since that’s been the case. I have a Dramione 8th year in the works, super short-- 5 or less chapters. And a first war Jamione that will probably be my next major WIP. I’ll have some fest pieces in the following months and if you have prompts for me, please please please drop them in my Tumblr box because phew, I need ‘em to keep me going!**

**Thank you again for reading and reviewing! **

**Until next time, LK**


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